Where Two Universe Collide
by Cebad2710
Summary: Hitsugaya Toushiro is sent on a mission alone to Hogwarts to investigate strange human activities. There he met the Golden Trio in their second year. Could Toushiro protect the students of Hogwarts from the danger lurking in the shadows or will he fail?
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello minna! This is Cebad2710, and this is my first try at writing fan-fiction after reading a lot of them! I hoped that everyone enjoys reading this story**** anyways, this happened during the Chamber of Secrets and some when shortly after Aizen deflected from Soul Society.**

**I am sorry about my grammar and vocabulary mistakes if there's any. I am not very talented in that prospect. **

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Bleach or Harry Potter. As much as I wanted to, I do not own them. Sigh.**

Soul Society was peaceful and quiet, especially around the usually chilly and noisy tenth division barracks. It was all quiet and it suited the captain of said division. He was drinking his green tea, doing his—and his lazy Vice-Captain's—paperwork and simply enjoying the peaceful afternoon—

"TAICHOOOOO ~~! Taicho taicho taicho taicho taicho!" cried a very familiar voice from outside the office. The young white-haired captain looked up annoyed from the paperwork he was doing and glared at the door, knowing what kind of terrible creature stood waiting outside his office door.

"Come in…Matsumoto." Tenth division captain, Hitsugaya Toushiro, murmured, almost unwillingly, to the door.

The moment he finished his sentence, the door burst open and Toushiro's busty lieutenant dashed in at a speed that matched shunpo. She squealed happily and wrapped her arms around him, pressing him tightly into her—as Toushiro would call—'boobs of death'.

"I missed you so much taicho!" Matsumoto snuggled her face into her tiny, adorable captain's silky locks of white hair.

Toshiro, on the other hand, was not enjoying this encounter as much as his Vice-Captain. He waved his arms around in a very immature manner yelling agitatedly into her boobs. However, his voice was muffled. Matsumoto giggled as Toushiro's words tickled her cleavage.

"…MATSUMOTO!" finally came a legible word from the breathless youth as he finally managed to pull himself free. Toushiro's face was slightly flushed as he gasped for breath, all the while his teal eyes were glaring daggers at the blond woman. Matsumoto didn't even notice the look her captain was giving her. She started to describe her mission to the Living World excitedly in extreme details—on the clothes only of course.

"…and there is this really fashionably cute mini skirt in that shop window! It was so kawaii! But I don't have enough money to buy it," she pouted. "I spent all of them on this dress!" she held up an elegant green dress.

"You only went to the Living World to buy clothes and did nothing for the mission?" Toushiro asked, annoyed at the thought that his lieutenant has forgotten that she was actually on a mission. It was actually possible, considering who we are talking about.

"No!" Matsumoto defended herself. "I did my job of course! I am not _that _irresponsible!" Toushiro arched a white eyebrow. He has his suspicions of course. The Finally, he shook his head and decided to let the matter drop.

Toushiro turned back to the stack of papers he was working on before Matsumoto came in and disrupted his peaceful afternoon. Just as he was about to take the next piece of paper on the stack, an envelope caught his eye. _An envelope?_ Toushiro thought to himself. _When did paperwork come in envelopes?_ He plucked out the envelope carefully from the stack.

Toushiro pulled out two pieces of paper from within the envelope. The first one was from Captain-Commander Yamamoto.

_Hitsugaya-taicho, _the letter read. _The twelve division systems has picked up on strange human activities in England, London. The activities are believed to be caused by wizards and witches from Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry…_

Toushiro read through the letter again, hoping that he had misunderstood the letter. But no, the letter remained the same. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

"MATSUMOTO!" he yelled, annoyed, at the confused woman sitting on the coach. "What kind of joke is this? Now you want to treat me like a little child and want me to believe in nonsense such as witches and wizards do exist?" the temperature of the room dropped even more. Anger was nearly a visible aura around the young captain.

"No! It's not me!" Matsumoto protested, though she really wanted to laugh at what Toushiro had said. "See? There's the Captain-Commander's signature and stamp of approval on it so it's not me!" she hastily pointed at the signature and stamp at the bottom of the letter.

Toushiro frowned. Yes, it's definitely the Captain-Commander's signature and stamp of approval. So this really is real? Toushiro read on, trying to accept the fact that these wizards and magic exist. Apparently, he was failing miserably.

His mission stated in the letter was to go to this Hogarts School as a second year student for a year and see if these wizards could pose a threat to Soul Society. And he was to leave the day after tomorrow.

"Taicho, you are supposed to go on a mission for a year?" Matsumoto read from behind his shoulders. She turned to look at him with a reluctant expression. "I'll miss you, Shiro-chan!" a vein pulsed in Toushiro's forehead.

"It's Hitsugaya-taicho to you!" Matsumoto just smiled and ran out the door. Leaving the white-haired boy to grumble to himself about people not addressing him by his proper title.

Toushiro sighed and opened the second letter. This one was written in English.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore _  
_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Hitsugaya,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Toushiro read through the equipments and stopped reading when he came across the last equipment: 1 _wand_.

Toushiro frowned; the thought of having to replace Hyourinmaru with a piece of wood was unsettling. A low rumble sounded in the back of his mind as the ice dragon agreed with Toushiro. Putting down the letter, Toushiro closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

On the good side of things, he was free of Matsumoto for a year, which means no more elaborate sake parties and have to face the huge pile of paperwork she refused to do. However, on the down side of things, he was going to be pretending to be a _child_. He was going to be treated like one for the whole year. He groaned. He hated it.

This is going to be a long year.

**I hope that you guys are now sleeping by now! Thanks for reading!**

**Please review! (you have no idea how important they are to the writer!)**

**Arigato!**


	2. The Broken Pot

**A/N: Wow! Thanks for the reviews, you guys rock! I hope this chapter will just be as enjoyable! **

**Sadly, I DO NOT own Bleach or Harry Potter**

_On the good side of things, he was free of Matsumoto for a year, which means no more elaborate sake parties and have to face the huge pile of paperwork she refused to do. However, on the down side of things, he was going to be pretending to be a child. He was going to be treated like one for the whole year. He groaned. He hated it._

_This is going to be a long year._

"Remember to do your work, Matsumoto," Toushiro reminded his Vice-Captain for the last time. He glared at her in warning. _If you try to slack off from those mountains of paperwork on your desk…_

Matsumoto just smiled reassuringly back at him. "Daijobu, taicho! I have everything under my control!" Toushiro glared at her again. Sure, when he returns from this mission his office would be in ruins and whatever was left of it would be stuffed with untouched paperwork. He couldn't help but shudder at the horrible mental image.

"Hitsugaya-kun," Ukitake called, smiling, from beside the glowing Senkaimon. "the Gate wouldn't be opened forever."

That's right. Today's the big day where Captain Hitsugaya Toushiro is going to the Living World for one whole year.

Now standing in front of the Senkaimon was the said Captain in his gigai. He was dressed in a black polo with the symbol of the tenth division embroidered onto its pocket and long white jeans. Beside him was an ice-blue trunk. Sighing, Toushiro walked up to the Senkaimon, dragging his quite-light trunk along behind him.

"Good luck for your mission, Shiro-chan," Ukitake smiled kindly at his fellow white-haired captain. Toushiro could feel a vein threatening to pop in his forehead.

"It's Hitsugaya-taicho," he grumbled under his breath as he stepped through the portal. The last thing he heard was Matsumoto calling after him, "Remember to write back everyday, Shiro-chan!" a vein pulsed at the back of his head as Toushiro tried his best to suppress the urge to yell at that irritating fuku-taicho of his.

A devious smile crept onto Matsumoto's face as soon as her taicho disappeared into the Senkaimon. Now she could slack off work all she wants and no one will be there to stop her. She wheeled around and shunpoed back to her office.

"SAKE PARTY!"

Toushiro stepped out into the night air of London, England. The streets were dotted with little shops and even though it was dark already, there were still many people running about, doing whatever they were doing. The tiny taicho started walking towards the inn he was supposed to go, which was just a few blocks away from where he had appeared. What was it called again? Broken Pot, wasn't it?

As he neared the inn, he got a closer look at the sign. The Leaky Cauldron, it read. _What's with these wizards and their funny names?_ Toushiro wondered to himself as he pushed the door open.

The first thought that occurred to Toushiro as he stepped inside was _this place smells even worse than the sake parties Matsumoto throws. _And that is saying something. This place stank of beer and it looked really run-down. Not to mention the rowdy noises the customers were making.

The customers all turned to stare at the weird new comer. White hair was definitely not a very common color around this area. Toushiro concluded. But then again, in which part of the world was white _ever_ a common color among youngsters?

Toushiro sighed internally and met with every single pair of eyes that were trained on him. It worked like a charm. Everyone quickly turned around and looked at anything else but the dangerous-looking child. Toushiro smirked darkly. Many had told him how intimidating his emotionless icy stare could be. It could come in handy if he needed to discipline any unruly squad members or brush off unwanted attention.

"Hey kid, need help with anything?" came a voice from the counter. Behind it stood a man, he looked a little uneasy as he stared at the boy in front of him. He tried to look him in the eyes but something about those icy teal orbs made it extremely difficult.

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees as the word 'kid' left the man's lips. Fighting back a growl at being called a _kid_, Toushiro scowled and approached the man, who shivered slightly at the sudden drop in temperature.

"You'll need a room, kid?" the temperature dropped even more. _When will these people learn to stop calling me a _kid_?_ "hn," was Toushiro's answer. "How long?" the bar keeper asked, Toushiro caught glimpse of the gap in between his teeth. "A week," Toushiro answered and asked the price. The bar keeper said something that sounded like gallons, getting sick and nuts. Toushiro blinked.

"Could you repeat that?" the man repeated what he had just said. It still didn't make sense to him.

"How about I pick it out for you?" the bar keeper said, giving up finally. Toushiro nodded and handed him the little velvet bag that Kurotsuchi had given him, claiming that it will produce unlimited amounts of wizard money. But of course, it will stop functioning immediately after Toushiro had completed the mission.

The man took from the bag an odd gold coin saying, "This is a Galleon," then a silver one and a bronze one, identifying them as Sickle and Knut respectively. Toushiro gave him a small nod.

"This way," The bar keeper gestured for Toushiro to follow him. He took out a stick from his sleeve and gave it a swish, Toushiro's trunk levitated above the floor and followed the bar keeper as he went up a creaky staircase. It sounded like it may give-way anytime.

They stopped outside a room numbered 14. The bar keeper unlocked the door with a brass key and levitated the trunk into it. With another swish of his wand, the trunk was lowered onto the floor.

"Well," the bar keeper said, turning around to hand the keys over to the white-haired taicho. "I guess that's about it kid. Breakfast is included in your payment so just come down whenever you're hungry. The name's Tom by the way." He added before slipping out of the room. His footsteps echoed in the dark hallways, shadowed by Toushiro's icy aura. _How dare he call me a kid again! If he were in my squad…_ Toushiro carried on his dark thoughts, thinking about how he would punish Tom for his insensitivity.

It was getting late after all; he will have to buy his equipments tomorrow. Toushiro sighed and kicked off his shoes. Lying on the bed without the covers on, Toushiro drifted off into his sleep, dreading whatever will happen the next day.

He vaguely wondered what was happening back in his division, hoping sincerely that Matsumoto was indeed keeping her word and everything was well under control…

**There! The end of another chapter! I hoped it's not too short and you enjoyed it! **

**Harry and Co. will be appearing in the next chapter! Stay tuned!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Please review! (you have no clue how important they are to the writer!)**

**Arigato!**


	3. The Mini Tornado

**A/N: A great many thanks to all those who reviewed, you guys totally made my day! Sorry to all my readers for not updating, school and exams are just driving me crazy!**

**And in response to ****TsukiakariNoMichi****'s review: Thanks for the suggestions; I'll try to make it less cliché as possible! And yes, the arrancar will be here to wreck havoc soon in later chapters! Stay tuned! (By the way they will be Numeros and not Espadas. Sorry if I disappointed anyone, gomenasai!)**

**And without further ado, here comes chapter 3 of Shiro-chan's adventure!**

_It was getting late after all; he will have to buy his equipments tomorrow. Toushiro sighed and kicked off his shoes. Lying on the bed without the covers on, Toushiro drifted off into his sleep, dreading whatever will happen the next day._

_He vaguely wondered what was happening back in his division, hoping sincerely that Matsumoto was indeed keeping her word and everything was well under control…_

The next morning, Toushiro got up bright and early. The sun was barely above the horizon when he pulled open the curtains. The morning air was cool against his skin. He inhaled deeply.

_The air here is thicker than that in Karakura Town_, Toushiro realized. _It must be the magic here. _

Changing into a new set of clothes, Toushiro walked down the rickety old stairs into the near-empty bar. The people occupying the tables looked as if they were about to fall face-first into their bacon and eggs.

"You're up already? An early bird, aren't you?" said Tom from behind the counter. "Want some breakfast?"

"Yes please, just a cup of green tea would do," replied Toushiro politely. Tom nodded and went into the room behind the counter.

Toushiro sipped his green tea, feeling grateful that he could finally enjoy it without needing to stop in the middle of his tea-drinking to yell at a certain blond and busty lieutenant.

After his morning tea, Toushiro approached the gap-teethed barkeeper.

"I was wondering, could you show me the way to Daigon Alley?"

"Sure thing. You go out the back door and tap your wand…" Tom trailed off, seeming to notice Toushiro's obvious lack of a wand for the first time. Toushiro rolled his eyes in annoyance. Humans can be so imperceptive sometimes! Tom huffed and gestured for Toushiro to follow him.

They walked out the small back door…and came face to face with a solid brick wall. Toushiro was just about to glare at the barkeeper, thinking this was some kind of joke when he saw Tom tapping at seemingly random bricks with his wand.

Amazingly, the bricks he touched quivered—wriggled to be exact—and moved to the side. The rest of the bricks started moving as well, revealing a street crowded with shops selling the queerest objects that you had ever laid eyes on.

Toushiro was amazed. Everything here was just so astonishing. Even the people on the streets who were all wearing brightly colored robes and tall pointy hats.

"Enjoy your day," Tom murmured as the bricks moved back to their original places. Soon enough, Toushiro was once again facing a solid brick wall. Toushiro shrugged, turning back to the wonderful street, and stared at his list of things he had to get. He was required to buy both the first and the second year books seeing that he had missed his first year, a wand, a cauldron, a set of glass or crystal phials, a telescope, a set of brass scales and optionally, a pet.

Toushiro decided to get his robes first. He usually spent the least time at buying clothes… that's simply because he just needed to take the smallest size.

He stepped into _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. It was just like the shop name had suggested, there were robes of all colors, shapes and sizes.

A squat, smiling witch approached him. Though she appeared all friendly, there was no mistaking the uneasiness in her eyes as she took in Toushiro's snow-white hair and cold teal eyes.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked. Not waiting for Toushiro to answer, she was already off to the shelves at the side, running her finger down the rows of robes.

"There," she muttered to herself as she pulled the robe from its shelf. "Try it on," she said, slipping the black robe over Toushiro's head. She pursed her lips as the sleeves completely covered his hands. "Its two sizes too big… you are such a tiny thing even for a first year!" she mused.

Toushiro could feel his patience taking a nose-dive—the temperature dropping along with it—a vein pulsed in respond on his pale forehead.

"I am in my second year and most definitely not a _'thing'_." Toushiro said, pronouncing each and every syllabus distinctly through clenched teeth. The witch looked confused and slightly frightened as she pulled another robe from the shelf.

"Oh? I don't recall you from last year…"

"That's because I just transferred in from Japan this year."

"Oh? Huh, never knew that Hogwarts accepted transfers, must be changing with the times." She mumbled to herself.

Then the witch handed Toushiro his robes. "There, these are the exact sizes for you. It would be a total of 12 Galleons and 8 Sickles thank you." Toushiro nodded his thanks and paid the money.

Next would be his wand. As Toushiro continued his way on to the wand shop, he saw a giant of a man stomping out from a dusty-looking alley. He had a black-haired boy in tow by the scruff of his neck. The man looked quite pissed off—if Toushiro could even see past the furry black mess around his face that was his hair and beard.

"Yer a mess!" he boomed, his voice was so loud that Toushiro was absolutely positive that everyone in the alley could have heard him. The man brushed off the soot on the black-haired boy gruffly—while the boy was trying his best to keep his glasses on his face. 'Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno—dodgy place, Harry—don' want no one ter see yeh down there—"

The boy, named Harry, replied something too faint for Toushiro to hear. Toushiro rolled his eyes. Typical little children behavior; sneaking off into some forbidden areas, hah! You will never catch the young taicho doing such ridiculous acts. But Toushiro was curious; the place radiated a strong but dark reiatsu.

Sometime, he just got to explore the place. (Sigh, so much for no ridiculous acts.)

After some walking, Toushiro arrived at a shabby-looking shop. A sign over the door read _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. _A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

As Toushiro pushed open the door, there was a tinkling of a bell somewhere deep within the musty insides of the shop. It was a dimly-lit place, with only a small, tiny flame on a single candle stub to light up the entire shop. There was a table or a chair here or there, but that was about all of the furniture in the shop.

It was eerily quiet. Not a single whisper could be heard. Teal orbs glanced up at the towers of neatly-piled narrow boxes that reached all the way to the ceiling. The place looked mysterious, as if it held thousands of secrets.

"Good morning," a soft, crackly voice said. Toushiro nearly jumped at the sudden noise. His hand reached instinctively to grab the handle of his zanpakutou which was usually positioned behind his back. Suddenly remembering that it wasn't there, Toushiro quickly put down his hand, praying that the man didn't notice his slip.

An old man was standing before him, his pale wide eyes were almost gleaming in the gloom. He looked kind-of smug; probably enjoyed scaring people with his sudden appearances.

"Looking for a wand, child?" the old man cracked. "Well you have come to the right place! I'm Ollivander, the best wand maker around. I assure you that my wands are of the best quality." Mr. Ollivander was now smiling proudly, obviously glad of the wands he had made. Toushiro, on the other hand, was getting rather annoyed. It seems like the wizards have a nasty habit of not giving the others a chance to answer their questions.

"Hold out your wand arm," said Mr. Ollivander. Toushiro held out his right arm, not exactly sure of what Mr. Ollivander meant. A tape measure floated into the air and started to measure his arm and basically everything about him that could be measured. Mr. Ollivander turned around and disappeared behind the towers of boxes.

"You seem to lack the enthusiasm of all the other first years I have seen. You are the calm one aren't you? The others would be jumping around in excitement." His eyes landed on Toushiro's white hair as he came back with a box in hand.

"I am not a first year. This is my second year." Toushiro answered coldly, extremely irritated that people just kept assuming that he was some loud, overly-excited little brat. The tape measure was now measuring the length in between his eyes.

Mr. Ollivander frowned as he took a wooden stick from the box.

"Second year? I remember every customer and every wand I made. I am most certainly sure that I had never seen you before."

"I am a transfer student from Japan. This will be my first year at Hogwarts." Toushiro explained with a sigh. Hopefully, this would be the last time he would need to explain to anyone.

Mr. Ollivander nodded and his expression changed to one of excitement.

"Here," he said as he gave Toushiro the stick. "Ten inches, unicorn hair, yew. Give it a wave."

Toushiro's skin pricked as his hand touched the handle of the wand. It was as if the wand was subtly giving off electrical waves. It wasn't painful nor was it uncomfortable, in fact, it was hardly noticeable actually. Despite the tingling sensation that was obviously the work of magic, somehow it felt wrong in his hands.

Toushiro gave it a wave anyways.

The windows and the door exploded with a loud BANG. Toushiro's eyes bulged.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Oh don't worry about it!" Mr. Ollivander cut him off quickly, eyes shining bright with unexplained excitement. He snatched the wand away from Toushiro's surprised hands. "I'll fix them later. Now let's fix your wand! Incredible power…how about this?" Mr. Ollivander mumbled as he walked down the towers of boxes.

After about five more wands later, the shop was in a mess. Nearly all the towers of boxes had collapsed, the table that had been sitting innocently in its corner had flown into the opposite wall and broke into splinters, there were also quite a number of huge holes in the surviving chairs. This place looks as if a mini tornado had decided to pay a visit.

And standing in the middle of this mass of destruction was the said tiny tornado; holding out a wand and looking highly dangerous.

"Ah…" said Mr. Ollivander as he came out from his hiding place behind one of the still-standing towers, in his hands was another box. However, this box was different from the rest: it had an intricate design on it. "I guess this one should do the job." Mr. Ollivander was somehow managing to still look excited, not even taking a look more than necessary at the state his shop was in. "Eleven inches, heartstring of a frozen dragon found in Iceland, fir. Powerful core and it's a very rare combination."

Mr. Ollivander took the wand gingerly out of the box and handed it to a very guilty-looking Toushiro.

Toushiro took the wand unwillingly. In just a short span of less than twenty minutes, he managed to bring total destruction to a decent—not exactly, it's crumbling away by itself without Toushiro's help anyways—shop by merely waving five sticks.

This time, however, as Toushiro's hand came into contact with the wand, he knew that he had the right one. The temperature dropped in a gentle decline, the candle flame—that had miraculously survived the whole ordeal—when out with a whoosh. Hyourinmaru rumbled in anticipation somewhere deep inside his mind.

He gave it a cautious wave. Tiny, pure-white snowflakes sprouted from the tip of the wand. Mr. Ollivander looked as if he would start tap-dancing anytime.

"Brilliant! It seems like a wand has finally chosen you!" Mr. Ollivander smiled. "A wand chooses the wizard; you have found a partner in this boy!" Now Toushiro wasn't sure if Mr. Ollivander was talking to the wand or him.

Toushiro twisted his wand to look at it from different angles. It was a dull grey. On the handle, there were intricate blue wave-like patterns etched onto its surface. It felt as though he was holding a weaker and much smaller version of Hyourinmaru in his hand again. Toushiro smiled slightly to himself. He paid the money and exited Mr. Ollivander's ruined shop.

**I wanted to put the whole of Shiro-chan's shopping in Daigon Alley in one chapter, but it was tooo long! So I split it up. The rest will be coming next chapter! Thanks again for reading!**

**Shiro-chan: How many times did I tell you: IT'S HITSUGAYA!**

**Me: Oh about… the 59****th**** time I think… anyways, I'm the author here so I can call you whatever I what! *Smiles***

**Shiro-chan: When I come back from Hogwarts, you are going to be so dead… *Draws Hyourinmaru***

**Me:…Eep!**

**Please review! (You have to be a writer to understand how important they are to one—especially a dying one.)**

**Arigato! **


	4. The Albino Wannabe

**A/N: Ohayo! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and a special thanks to Dragons-fang for your cookie! Here is Chapter 4 of Shiro-chan's adventure in Great Britain! This chapter will be told from both Harry's and Shiro-chan's POV. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I DONOT own Harry Potter or Bleach, they belong to Tite Kubo and JK Rowling**

_Toushiro twisted his wand to look at it from different angles. It was a dull grey. On the handle, there were intricate blue wave-like patterns etched onto its surface. It felt as though he was holding a weaker and much smaller version of Hyourinmaru in his hand again. Toushiro smiled slightly to himself. He paid the money and exited Mr. Ollivander's ruined shop._

After Toushiro had bought all his necessary equipment—excluding his pet and his books—he headed off to the pet shop first, deciding that it was best to not carry his huge stack of books—he was sure to buy—around.

The pet shop was not as dingy as Toushiro imagined. It was bright and cheerful; the smell of the animals inside was completely covered by a sickly sweet perfume. Toushiro's nose wrinkled.

There were a lot of owls and cats roaming freely around the shop, some getting back into their cages while the others stayed outside them. The small taicho stared around him at the different types of animals in wonder. There were color-changing cats, singing owls and even barking toads.

The woman behind the counter was smiling warmly at Toushiro, prompting him to take a look around. As the white-haired youth looked around, his eyes landed on a small pile of black ash. Curious to what it was, Toushiro stared at it. And the pile of ash stared back.

_Wait, stared back?_ Indeed, a pair of big chocolate-brown eyes was staring back at the pair of teal. The pile of ash quivered and it wasn't a pile of ash anymore, it was the raven-black body of a small owl! It hooted at Toushiro, its brown eyes never moving from his icy gaze. Toushiro held out his hand, the owl flapped its small wings and flew straight onto his spiky hair, hooting in content as it pecked affectionately at the silky white locks. Toushiro smiled.

"Looks like this Ash Elf has taken a liking to you, they are intelligent birds, usually shy and don't even allow anyone near them! Would you like to buy her? That will be 11 Galleons and 7 Sickles." The woman said. Once again, the young taicho had fallen victim to the wizards' habit of not giving one the chance to respond.

Sighing, Toushiro paid the money for the tiny owl that seemed to think that Toushiro's shoulders was her new home.

"Hn, you'll need a name. Since look like one of my friends, I'll call you Momo." The owl hooted at the sound of its new name and started pecking at his hair again.

So it was like this did the two of them approach _Flourish and Blotts,_ the local bookstore. To Toushiro's astonishment, there was a large crowd jostling outside the doors trying to get in. The reason for this crowd was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows of the store:

_GILDEROY LOCKHART _

_Will be signing copies of his autobiography_

MAGICAL ME

_Today 12.30—4.30pm_

_Ah, so that's the man that had written nearly all the books on the booklist._ The crowd was mainly made up of witches. Toushiro squeezed inside. There was a long queue that wound right to the back of the shop where Gilderoy Lockhart would be signing his books.

Ignoring the crowd, Toushiro tried to find the last book on his list: _Break with a Banshee._ He scanned the shelves but the irritating book just does _not_ want to be found, Toushiro's white brows furrowed in irritation.

"Hullo, do you need help in finding your books?" a voice asked. The white-haired taicho turned to see a bushy brown-haired girl looking at him.

"No, I can manage myself." Toushiro replied in his usual icy tone. He turned back to searching for his book, hoping that the girl would go away. Unfortunately, the girl seemed determined to make friends with him.

"Well, I'm Hermione Granger. What's your name?"

"Toushiro Hitsugaya." The girl suddenly brightened up at the sound of the foreign name. The next thing he knew, the tiny taicho was bombarded with questions.

"Really? Are you from Japan? Are you a wizard? Are you going to attend Hogwarts? If so, which year are you in? Where is your family? What is Japan like? What—"

"If you are going to fire off questions at me, how am I supposed to answer them?" Toushiro cut Hermione off irritably. Seriously, don't these wizards have any manners? Hermione looked down, embarrassed. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a voice from behind her.

"Hermione!" it called. "What are you doing there?"

"Ron!" Hermione answered. Two boys came into view of the young taicho. One of them had freckles and vivid red hair that rivaled Abarai's while the other had messy black hair and glasses. His emerald-green eyes zeroed in on Toushiro's snowy hair and the owl that was still pecking it. (Wonder when Momo would stop?) Toushiro immediately recognized him as the boy with the giant from before, Harry, wasn't it?

"Blimey, Hermione!" the redhead nearly screeched. "Who is this midget you're talking to?"

Toushiro's eye twitched. _…Midget? HE DARE CALL ME A MIDGET? _ The temperature dropped to about below negative.

"Ron! That wasn't very nice!" Hermione slapped the redhead's shoulder with a thick book before she shivered at the sudden drop of temperature. Ron rubbed the spot where he had been hit.

"S-sorry," he chattered. "W-what's with t-t-the temperature tod-day?" Harry nodded in agreement as he pulled his jacket closer to himself.

Realizing that he was the cause, Toushiro reigned in his reiatsu reluctantly._ Let them freeze to death! How dare they call me a _midget_? _The temperature slowly rose to its original level.

"Well, this is Toushiro Hitsugaya." Hermione introduced, though still shivering from the lingering cold. "And Toushiro, this is Ron Weasley and Harry… Potter." Hermione winced as she said the second boy's last name. All three of them looked at him as if waiting for him to run out of the store, screaming as he go.

Harry's POV

"It's Hitsugaya," was the only answer the trio got from the annoyed white-haired boy. Ron looked disappointed, while Harry heaved a sigh of relief.

Harry had been expecting something like exclamations of joy at how honored the boy was to meet the legendary Harry Potter. Maybe he might even want autographs. But the weird boy called Toushiro just treated him as if he had never heard of the name before.

"What? Don't tell me you had never heard of Harry Potter?" Ron exclaimed in surprise. Toushiro look confused. The tiny, black owl that sat on his shoulder cocked its head to one side curiously, echoing its master's confusion.

"Should I? I don't think I made it a point to learn the names of every brat in the country before I arrived here." Toushiro said coolly. His oddly-colored teal eyes looked bored as he looked straight into Ron's eyes. Ron averted his eyes quickly.

Toushiro gave them a curt nod before he turned and left, dragging his huge cauldron behind him to the next shelf of books.

"Can you believe it? He didn't know Harry and says Harry's a brat? He's the real brat here!" Ron's face was nearly as red as his flaming hair. "I bet he's in Slytherin! That is the kind that will definitely turn all moldy!" Hermione smacked Ron's arm again with her _Hogwarts: A History_.

"That's because you called Toushiro a midget!"

"So? Are you _defending_ that weirdo, Hermione? Did you even notice his hair? He dyed it entirely white! I bet he's an albino wannabe! Tell me who in their right minds would want their hair _white_?"

"And tell me who in their right minds would want _their_ hair in flames?"

"Hey!"

They continued bickering for about ten more seconds before the rest of their little argument was cut off by the entrance of Gilderoy Lockhart.

He came into view slowly, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was dressed in robes of forget-me-not blue that matched his eyes; his extra-pointy wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.

A photographer was busy taking photographs with a large black camera that emits puffs of smoke with every click. "Out of the way, miss," he said to a Lockhart fan. "This is for the _Daily Prophet._"

Lockhart beamed at the crowd in front of him, his blue eyes sweeping the crowd…and saw Harry. He leapt up to his feet and practically shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"

The next thing he knew, Harry was at the front shaking hands with an extremely enthusiastic Lockhart for the photographer to take pictures.

"Smile wide Harry," said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

When Harry was finally freed from Lockhart's grasp, he could hardly even feel his hands. He tried to escape back to his friends, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lockhart announced loudly. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I have been sitting on for some time!

"I will be filling in the empty post of Defense Against Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry! Yes, that's right! I, Gilderoy Lockhart, the winner of _Witch Weekly's_ Most-Charming-Smile award five times in a row, will be Harry and his school mates' new DADA Professor!"

The crowd clapped and cheered and Harry found himself presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart.

"You have these, Ginny," Harry said to Ginny as he managed to escape the limelight to the edge of the room where Ginny was standing with her brand new cauldron. "I'll buy my own… "

"Bet you loved that, didn't you Potter?" said a voice Harry had no trouble recognizing. Draco Malfoy was standing a few feet away, wearing his usual sneer.

Toushiro's POV

"Oh famous Harry Potter and his scar," the pale boy sneered. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page." Toushiro immediately disliked the boy. Arrogance was nearly a visible aura around him.

"How does Potter making the front page just by being in a bookshop concerns you?" Toushiro asked the boy loudly. Harry had been obviously uncomfortable under the spotlight; this boy must be one of those bullies you normally see in schools.

Harry looked at Toushiro, surprised. Toushiro must have been the last person he expected to stand up for him.

"Potter, have you fallen so low that you need freaks to stand up for you?" drawled Malfoy, looking Toushiro over with distaste. "What happened to your hair? Run in with a jinx, Gramps? Or perhaps fell into a tub of white paint?"

Toushiro gritted his teeth. _This boy did better shut up or I _will_ Daiguren Hyourinmaru his ass._

Back in Soul Society, everyone knows that picking on the small jyuubantai taicho was NOT a wise idea. Momo ruffled up her feathers angrily, as if she knew that the boy was insulting her master.

"Oh, it's you," said Ron as he and Hermione fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart's books. Ron was looking at the boy as if he were something stuck onto a lavatory seat. "Bet you were surprised to see Harry here, eh Malfoy?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot."

Ron went as red as his hair. He dropped the books into Ginny's cauldron and started towards Malfoy, but Harry and Hermione caught the back of his jacket.

"Ron!" called a redheaded man as he struggled over with a pair of redheaded twins. Toushiro guessed that these would be Ron's family, mentally noting that they all had vivid red hair. "What are you doing? It's mad in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well—Arthur Weasley."

The speaker was a man with the same pale complex and rat-like face as Malfoy. Even his expression was the same. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulders.

"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly. Toushiro sighed, he had a bad feeling that this would turn out into a fight; quite possible considering the 'reinforcements' coming in by the minute.

"Busy time at the ministry, I hear," said Lucius Malfoy. "All those raids…I hope they are paying you overtime?" He reached into Ginny's cauldron and pulled out a very old, very battered copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. "Obviously not. Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley looked down-right ready to murder the other man.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.

"Clearly," sneered Lucius Malfoy, his eyes drifted to a couple who had their hands on Hermione's shoulders. "The company you keep, Weasley…and I thought your family could sink no lower—"

There was a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at the other man, knocking him backwards into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came showering onto their backs. The crowd stampeded backwards, knock more bookshelves over. "Gentlemen, please – please!" cried the bookshop's assistant. Anger marks started appearing all over Toushiro's face until…

"YAMERO!"

Everyone froze, including the two fighting men. All of them looked to towards the sound to find a very pissed off Toushiro glaring at the two men who were still on the floor. His icy glare was enough to make even Lord Voldermort go crying for his mommy. Frost started creeping across the windows.

"Behave your age, baka! You are god damned adults for heaven's sake!" Toushiro's voice was full of authority; despite his obvious youth, no one dared to question it.

Lucius Malfoy glared at the white-haired boy, but had to look away nearly immediately. He threw Ginny's old transfiguration book at her, eyes glittering with malice.

"Here girl—take your book—it's the best your father can give you—" pulling himself up, he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.

Toushiro left the shop moments after the Malfoys, muttering angrily about people 'attracting unnecessary attention to themselves', leaving behind him a shop-full of people gawking in awe and fear.

Once Toushiro was back in his room at the inn, he decided that he did best start learning about the spells as best as he could. It would seem odd for him to not know a single thing about spells when he's supposed to be in his second year.

With that in mind, Toushiro plucked Momo off her post from his shoulder and placed her in her cage. Then, Toushiro took out his new wand and set off to work.

**The end of the next chapter! I know Harry and Co. bought their books one month before the term starts but to match my timeline, Lockhart just have to sign his books slightly later! Hoped you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!**

**Shiro-chan: …Why was the owl pecking at my hair?**

**Me: Hmm, not exactly sure…I think Momo just thought your hair was candy floss?**

**Shiro-chan: Now the top three people on my To-Murder list are: (1) Cebad2710 (2) Cebad2710 (3) Cebad2710**

**Me: *Disappeared to who-knows-where***

**Please review! (Or I won't update!)**

**Arigato!**


	5. The Circus Freak

**A/N: Amazing, simply amazing! Thanks so much for your reviews minna! I really appreciate them! And special thanks to ****NimayTheAirbender and Escapedslave99 for your cookie and cake! **

**And in response to Curious reader8044's review: Thanks for the suggestion! I have already worked it into the next chapter! Stay tuned!**

**So here comes the fifth chapter of Shiro-chan's adventure! Enjoy!**

**Shiro-chan: Cebad2710 does NOT own Bleach or Harry Potter and blah blah blah… Why am I doing the disclaimer?**

**Me: Dunno… just feel like letting you do it *Smiles***

_Once Toushiro was back in his room at the inn, he decided that he did best start learning about the spells as best as he could. It would seem odd for him to not know a single thing about spells when he's supposed to be in his second year. _

_With that in mind, Toushiro plucked Momo off her post from his shoulder and placed her in her cage. Then, Toushiro took out his new wand and set off to work._

The start of the new term came quickly. Soon, Toushiro found himself all dressed and a neatly packed ice blue trunk by his side. Now, he would have to head over to King's Cross station to board the Hogwarts Express.

He picked up Momo's cage that was empty except for the pile of ash at the bottom and headed down the rickety old stairs.

"Good luck for your school year, kiddo! See you next time!" greeted Tom as Toushiro handed him the key. Good thing Tom took the key quickly, or else his hand would have suffered an unfortunate frostbite.

"Hn," Toushiro wasn't in any mood to thank the barkeeper. On that happy note, Toushiro set off to King's Cross station, where he would take his first step into a place he never knew existed.

At half past ten, Toushiro arrived at the station. He looked around for his platform number: platform nine and three-quarters. However, all he could see was platform nine and ten, certainly no nine and three-quarters in between. Feeling frustrated, Toushiro stopped a passing guard.

The guard just stared at Toushiro as if he was crazy—considering the owl on his shoulder, he might really be—when Toushiro repeated his question. He shook his head and turned his back to Toushiro, muttering about circus freaks that are bound to appear this time every year.

Toushiro was already not in a good mood and he was contemplating whether this man looks better as a snowman or just an icicle.

Then, an idea struck him. What if he tapped the bricks on the pillars…? Could it be the same kind of magic like the one used on the wall to Daigon Alley? Toushiro dragged his trunk behind him as he approached the only brick pillar in between platforms nine and ten.

Cautiously and trying to not look like an utter idiot, Toushiro reached out his hand to touch the pillar. As his hand drew close, Toushiro could feel a slight hum in the air around the pillar. It was as if the air was charged with high voltage electricity. This was exactly the same feeling he felt when he came into contact with the wands, most probably the result of concentrated magic. Momo hooted.

Instead of feeling the cold bricks of the pillar, Toushiro's fingers went right through like it wasn't there at all. Toushiro smiled. _Found you._ With one casual step, Toushiro's body passed through the barrier that separated the magical and non-magical worlds.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said _Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock._ Toushiro looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the original Kind's Cross had been, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters _on it. _Clever, _Toushiro thought to himself.

Smoke from the engine drifted everywhere over the heads of the chattering crowd, making Toushiro's vision watery. In the distance, Toushiro saw a group of people with recognizable vivid red hair.

Having found an empty compartment on the train, Toushiro heaved his trunk above the seat with a bit of difficulty. Toushiro huffed in irritance. He had requested his gigai to be as strong as him in his soul form, apparently, his request had_ not_ been granted. He had the strength of an average human now.

Flopping down onto the seat, Toushiro sat closer to the window, gazing out at the scenery. Momo had started her usual routine of nibbling her master's hair.

The door to his compartment opened, revealing a round-faced boy.

"Um, do you mind if I sat here? The other compartments are all full…" the boy had a timid expression on his face and his voice just seemed to grow fainter as he spoke. Toushiro jerked his head slightly towards the empty seats. The boy sat down gratefully.

"Uh, what's your name?" the boy asked, no doubt trying to be as friendly as possible.

"At where I came from, it's basic courtesy to introduce yourself first before asking the identity of the other person." Toushiro answered indifferently without looking away from the window.

"Oh right," the boy said, uncomfortable. "I, uh, my name is Neville Longbottom and I, uh, am in my second year." Toushiro looked at the frightened boy, Neville. He had to admit that the poor boy had a bad name, I mean Longbottom? Come on.

"Hitsugaya Toushiro or Toushiro Hitsugaya according to your English customs," Toushiro answered.

Neville nodded. Momo hooted and flew off into her cage, closing the door behind her with her claw and instantly turning into a pile of ash. Neville stared at the bird, surprised by what it just did.

"Momo's an Ash Elf. Intelligent birds they are, knows how to do a lot of stuff." Toushiro explained to Neville. Understanding spread across his face.

"Oh, I heard about them from Gran. She said they were clever but shy birds." Toushiro just 'hn'ed.

As they were talking the train had carried them out of London and they were now speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. The compartment door burst open again, this time revealing Hermione and a red-haired girl that Toushiro had seen at the bookshop previously, Ginny Weasley.

"Hermione!" Neville exclaimed.

"Can we sit here? Everywhere else is full." Hermione asked. Neville quickly nodded, looking very much like a woodpecker. Hermione sat down beside Neville while Ginny sat beside Toushiro. Hermione looked up and noticed Toushiro for the first time.

"Oh hello, Toushiro!" Hermione greeted, surprised. "I didn't think to meet you here!"

"It's Hitsugaya," Toushiro corrected her, half-heartedly. Neville looked back and forth between Hermione and the young taicho, mouth agape. "I met Hermione and her friends in the bookshop." Toushiro explained to the mystified Neville.

"Tou—I mean Hitsugaya, did you see Harry and Ron? I didn't see them get on the train." Hermione asked, concern seeping into her voice. Toushiro shook his head; his teal eyes were emotionless as he stared back out the window.

"I saw Weasley's family at the platform, if he isn't there, then too bad, he missed the train." Toushiro's nonchalant tone showed how little he cared about the redhead-who-called-him-a-midget and his companion.

Ginny glared at Toushiro, somehow looking hurt at this weird stranger's disregard for her brother's well-being. Teal orbs met brown; Ginny looked down hurriedly, flushing the same shade of red as her hair.

"Don't worry Hermione," Neville tried to reassure Hermione instead. "They are Harry Potter and Ron Weasley! I'm sure they are fine by themselves." Hermione nodded.

"That's right; they will definitely be up to something devious! It's not my fault they get into trouble with the rules again!" Hermione said.

Neville looked like he wanted to point out that he didn't mention anything about them getting into trouble, instead, he kept his mouth shut, a thoughtful look on his face.

It wasn't long before the door slid open again, this time, however, it was opened for the occupants inside to buy something from the snacks witch. When Neville came back, he tipped the armful of candy onto the empty seat beside Hermione. Toushiro couldn't help but wince. He had had his fair share of nightmares about Ukitake's little 'gifts'.

"Here Tou- uh, Hitsugaya, try this," Neville quickly corrected himself as he threw the glaring boy a box. Toushiro snatched it mid-flight skillfully. The label identified the candy as Chocolate Frog. "It's good, just eat it before it runs away." Toushiro glared at the box, nose scrunching in disgust.

"Iie, I'll pass," Toushiro said, passing the offensive box back to Neville. "I am not a fan of sugar." Toushiro eyed the one of the Frogs in Ginny's hand as she tried to bite it. "Especially ones that runs away from you." He added as an afterthought.

Neville shrugged as he unwrapped the rejected Chocolate Frog, popping the struggling frog into his mouth.

"Suit yourself."

Toushiro sighed and glanced up at the darkening sky. Something glittering had caught his eye. Squinting, Toushiro tried to make out what the object in the sky was. He could have _sworn_ it was a car in the sky.

The rest of the ride was uneventful except for the occasional exclamations about Harry and Ron from Hermione and the occasional blushes on Ginny's cheeks whenever Toushiro caught her staring at him.

The train seemed to have slowed down after a few hours. A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately." The train came to an absolute stand-still.

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years and Mr. Hitsugaya over here!" boomed a deep and gruff voice from somewhere outside the train. He shrugged and followed behind Neville as they walked out of the crimson train. The voice called again for the first years and Mr. Hitsugaya.

"Well…I'll see you in the great hall later, I guess." Neville mumbled as he waved to Toushiro. Hermione had already hurried off with Ginny, both of them still looking slightly troubled over the missing half of the Golden Trio. Toushiro 'hn'ed and walked over to the giant of a man that was still yelling for the first years. Toushiro recognized him from Daigon Alley, the one who was with Harry.

"Eh? Yer Mr. Hitsugaya, am I right?" the man boomed as soon as the light from his lantern was reflected off a bunch of snowy white hair. "Rubeus Hagrid, by the way, Keeper of Keys and Grounds in Hogwarts."

The white-haired youth nodded and went to stand behind the group of absolutely-terrified first years. Toushiro recognized Ginny among them; she was staring around her in excitement and nervousness.

Hagrid stared curiously at the weird little transfer. While all the other first years were obviously shaking under their robes, the white-haired boy appeared to be very calm. The only feature that betrayed the boy's stoic mask were his teal eyes. They vigilantly scanned his surroundings, taking in everything they see with a calculative feel.

Toushiro waited with his arms crossed in front of his chest for the little group to be ready to go. Every one of the first years looked either too scared to talk or too excited. Toushiro rolled his eyes.

This reminded him strongly of the entrance exam for Shino Academy, except that back then, he was of the same height as those who were his age. Now, he was definitely _slightly _shorter than most of the eleven-years-olds.

He caught the eye of the giant named Hagrid; his black beetle-like eyes were fixed on Toushiro's pale face. Toushiro stared straight back at the bearded giant. Hagrid coughed and quickly looked away, calling for the first years to follow him.

They rounded the bend and…the path they were walking on opened up to a great black lake. Sitting on a high mountain at the other side of the lake, with its windows like brilliant stars in the background of the dark night sky, was a vast castle that looked as if it came straight out of a fairytale book.

The first years were pointing excitedly at the castle, their fears temporarily forgotten. Toushiro had to admit that he was surprised. He had not been expecting anything as magnificent as this castle. He was imagining something similar to perhaps an ugly log cabin in the middle of a murky green swamp. The air hummed with magic once again, adding to the unexplained excitement Toushiro suddenly felt.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Toushiro heard Hagrid call. The giant was pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. The tiny taicho climbed into one of them. It was small, a few sizes smaller and it would be as big as a canoe.

The boat swayed dangerously as Hagrid climbed in after him. Toushiro gripped the side of the boat hurriedly to steady himself. He glared at the bulky man behind him. Hagrid smiled apologetically, looking at the top of Toushiro's head rather than his face.

"Sorry 'bout that," Toushiro sat down at the other end of the boat, which was slightly raised above the water surface due to the weight on Hagrid's end. Hagrid turned around to shout at the other boats, "Everyone in? Right then—FORWARD!" he bellowed.

The little boats glided off at once by themselves, heading towards the magnificent castle where the white-haired taicho was going to be for the whole year.

**Okay! Another chapter of Shiro-chan's adventures finished! Hoped everyone enjoyed that! The next chapter would be the Sorting Ceremony! Stay tuned!**

**Shiro-chan: CIRCUS FREAK? When do I look like a circus freak? Short, tiny, adorable and even midget I'll take it! But CIRCUS FREAK? That guard better be in some far-away country before I hunt him down and turn him into frozen minced meat!**

**Me: Please excuse him; shouldn't have given him cola.**

**Shiro-chan: *Still ranting about circus freaks***

**Please review! (Be a writer to experience the wonders they do for a bad hair day)**

**Arigato!**


	6. The Stubborn Parasite

**A/N: Wow my god! Thank you sooooooo much for your reviews guys! They totally made my day! Special thanks to ****NimayTheAirbender and Dragons-Fangs for your delicious cookies and cakes, I love them!**

**Now…*Drumroll* chapter 6 of Shiro-chan's adventure in Great Britain! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I DONOT own Harry Potter or Bleach (Even if I very much wanted to [T.T] )**

"_Sorry 'bout that," Toushiro sat down at the other end of the boat, which was slightly raised above the water surface due to the weight on Hagrid's end. Hagrid turned around to shout at the other boats, "Everyone in? Right then—FORWARD!" he bellowed. _

_The little boats glided off at once by themselves, heading towards the magnificent castle where the white-haired taicho was going to be for the whole year._

They climbed out the boats and Toushiro found himself right outside the door of the magnificent castle of Hogwarts. Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the door.

The doors swung open and a tall, black-haired woman in an emerald green dress stood there.

"The firs'-years and Mr. Hitsugaya, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid told her.

"Thank you Hagrid, I will take over from here." Professor McGonagall turned and led them into an empty chamber off the hall.

Professor McGonagall's gaze swept across the students, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Toushiro's snow white hair.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she announced. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. While you are here, your houses will be something like your family within Hogwarts.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most number of points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to which ever house becomes yours.

"The sorting ceremony will start in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

And with that, Professor McGonagall left, her robes flying out a little behind her as she walked.

There were nervous chattering from the first years, some of them were desperately trying to flatten their hair or straighten their robes. Toushiro didn't bother with anything.

Experience had told him that no matter how he tried to comb his hair—or gel it for that matter—it will just spring right back to its gravity-defying style.

"Move along now, the Sorting Ceremony is about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned.

They walked out of the chamber and through the huge double doors of the Great Hall.

Toushiro had to admit that this place had not ceased to surprise him for even one second.

The Great Hall was lit by thousands of candles floating in mid-air over the four long tables where the rest of the students were sitting. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were all seated. And when Toushiro looked up, he wasn't sure if there was even a ceiling to the place. It was as black as the night outside and was dotted with twinkling stars.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool, she placed an old and dusty-looking hat. Toushiro silently prayed that he was not going to put that hat on his head. Sure, his dress sense has been mocked by Matsumoto many times but he was sure that even _he_ had a better sense than to put that ugly thing on his head.

Then the hat twitched, a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and it _sang_.

When the hat finished its little song—about the characteristics of each house—the whole school burst into applause. It bowed to each of the tables and fell still—just like the ordinary hat it should be.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment in her hands.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." She said. "Abel, Nancy!"

A little girl with a bob-cut stumbled out of the line and put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause—

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Nancy went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

"Bailey, Julian!"

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat again. The second table from the right clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Julian as he sat down at that table.

Soon, everyone else was sorted, leaving only the white-haired youth behind, standing all alone by himself. The students were now all pointing and whispering about his hair and he was sure that he definitely heard the word 'midget' somewhere. Toushiro could feel veins threatening to pop.

An old man—who bear a striking resemblance to Captain Commander Yamamoto, AKA Professor Dumbledore—stood up and opened his arms wide as if to hug all of his students. His twinkling blue eyes were nearly a line behind their half-moon glasses.

"Welcome back to a new year in Hogwarts!" he began. "As you see, we are having a very interesting year this year. We are pleased to welcome a transfer student from Japan, Toushiro Hitsugaya. He is the first transfer we have had in centuries! He will be studying in the second year. Mr. Hitsugaya, please come forward to be sorted."

The whispers became louder as Dumbledore finished his speech. Toushiro sighed inwardly. Why oh why can't they just sort him like they did for the first years? Why must they single him out? Isn't white hair already enough?

Toushiro sat down on the stool, slightly disheartened that his feet just barely touched the ground, and placed the dirty hat on his white locks.

_I wouldn't say I'm dirty if I were you, my boy, _Said a raspy voice inside his head. Toushiro's eyes widened in surprise.

A loud and angry rumble, like the rumble of the thunder, sounded at the back of his head. Hyourinmaru had voiced his displeasure at the fact that someone else had intruded Toushiro's inner world.

_Ahh… _the hat murmured not exactly sounding scared but definitely not happy either. _Don't worry; I am just going to look into your memories to see which house suits you the best. _

Suddenly, Toushiro saw his memories replaying themselves in his head. All of them. Except that he was watching it from a third person point-of-view now: Momo lying down with the pool of blood surrounding her and the smiling bastard Aizen standing beside Ichimaru. He saw his memory self dash forward to Momo's unconscious body and—in a blinded rage—unleashed Bankai.

Toushiro tried his best to push the hat out of his mind, anything to not relive that nightmare; but the hat just clung to him, refusing to go away—just like a stubborn parasite.

_Ahh…_ the hat said again. _A Shinigami? It's been so long since I last met one. Oh, and quite the rash one when your friends are in danger. Courageous, brave and rash, Gryffindor material. You are brilliant, a child prodigy. You will do well in Ravenclaw, but you are ambitious as well, Slytherin is a nice choice…but Gryffindor will suit you better. _The hat mused to itself.

_I take it that there won't be a third person informed of this conversation…?_ Toushiro could feel himself tensing up. The hat laughed once. _I am a hat, not a spy. Your secret is safe with me. So you will go to… _"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted the last word.

Hermione's POV

"Gryffindor!" shouted the hat. Hermione joined in the clapping and cheering of the rest of the Gryffindors, smiling to herself. Yes, she was indeed surprised when Professor Dumbledore announced Toushiro's year, but somehow she felt that she always knew that Toushiro would be older than he looked.

"Congratulations!" Hermione said cheerfully as Toushiro took his place beside Neville—who had purposefully saved a seat for his new friend. Toushiro just gave his famous line: "Hn."

Toushiro's POV

After everyone was seated, Dumbledore clapped his hands together, "Let the Feast begin!"

Food suddenly appeared on the empty tables as if by magic—which they are—and students started digging in.

The white-haired youth was quite grateful when a bowl of soba and some sushi appeared near him. At least the school had taken his foreign dietary habits into consideration.

Toushiro glanced up at the teacher's table as both Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore stood up and left the Great Hall, both wearing serious expressions.

Lockhart stared after them curiously before taking a swig of the orange liquid in his glass; and then gave a very silly grin to the squat little witch beside him.

As Toushiro looked around, he noticed several silver, see-through figures among the students. The small taicho frowned. These are definitely souls, but why are they so different from the other souls he had seen? Translucent and, most importantly, no chains?

"Are those souls?" Toushiro couldn't help asking Hermione beside him. Hermione saw what caught Toushiro's attention.

"Oh, you mean the ghosts? Don't worry, they are the house ghosts, they can't touch you—they just pass through you—so no need to be afraid of them." Hermione reassured him.

"I'm not afraid of them! But everyone can see them?"

"Yeah, they have been here for centuries." Hermione smiled reassuringly at the new transfer before returning to her dinner. Toushiro was mystified. _Centuries? Aren't they supposed to turn into hollows by then? Even though the time varies for every soul, the maximum limit is a few years…was it because they are souls of wizards? _

The white-haired taicho made a mental note to perform konso on them later.

"Blimey!" suddenly cried a voice from the Gryffindor table. A sandy-haired boy was standing and holding up a newspaper. "It's Harry and Ron!" he held up the paper for everyone to see.

Right-smack in the middle of the front page was a huge picture of a car flying through the air. And when I said flying, I meant literally flying. The car was really _moving_ in the picture. Toushiro could barely make out the figures in the front seats of the car. They were unmistakably Harry and Ron.

Instantly, the whole hall was bursting with the exciting news of famous Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley arriving by flying car. Toushiro shook his head, _children._

Later that night, Toushiro found himself inside the Gryffindor common room. It was all red and gold and that alone had given Toushiro a Yachiru-sized headache. Additionally, the heat of the room and the constant buzzing of magic in the air were giving Toushiro a hard time breathing.

Unlike the rest of the Gryffindors who have all decided to wait for the arrival of their two flying heroes, Toushiro headed straight up to the dormitories.

He found his name on one of the doors and entered it. He was grateful for the obvious drop in temperature. He pushed open all the windows and breathed in the cold night air. He sat down on the widow sill beside his bed which was the one nearest to the window.

Harry's POV

Harry and Ron were on treading the familiar path to Gryffindor tower, both still thinking about the little lecture they received.

"Wish we could've gone up to the feast…" Harry said, imagining him stuffing his face with the roast meat and potatoes and other delicacies, watching the first years getting sorted.

"She didn't want us showing off," said Ron sagely. "Doesn't want people to think it's clever, arriving by flying car."

"Password?' asked the Fat Lady as they approached the hidden entrance of Gryffindor Tower.

"Er—" they didn't know the new year's password, not having met a Gryffindor Prefect yet, but help came almost immediately; in the form of a very irritated Hermione.

"There you are! Where have you been?" Hermione scolded.

"Doesn't matter, what's the new password?" Harry said, hoping to skip the extra lecture by Hermione. However, she was already on a row.

"—n't matter? You didn't see Dumbledore announce that Toushiro was a transfer student and will be in our year because of your little stunt with the flying car! You could get yourself expelled—"

Ron nearly choked on his own spilt.

"WHAT? THAT MIDGET IS IN OUR YEAR?" Ron exclaimed, his face was a mixture between utter horror and disbelieve. "He looks like he's barely even ten!" Harry had to agree with Ron. The kid could hardly pass off as a first-year, how could Harry believe that this…_child _was actually _his age_? Hermione looked irritated.

"Yes, yes, he's even in Gryffindor, but that's not the point—"

Her words were cut short, however, as the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and there was a storm of clapping. It looked as though the whole Gryffindor house was awake, waiting for them to arrive. Arms reached through the portrait hole to pull Harry and Ron inside, leaving Hermione to scramble in after them.

"Brilliant!" yelled Lee Jordan. "Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years!"

"Good on you," said a fifth-year Harry had never spoken to; someone was patting him on the back as though he'd just won a marathon.

Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, "Why couldn't you've called us back, eh?" Ron was scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, but Harry could see one person who isn't happy at all.

Percy was visible over the heads of some excited first-years, and he seemed to be trying to get near enough to start telling them off. Harry nudged Ron in the ribs and nodded in Percy's direction. Ron got the point at once.

Moments later, after escaping the congratulations and back-pattings, two boys entered their dormitory. They grinned at each other guiltily before both their gazes fell upon the white-haired figure by the window.

The figure didn't even look at them as he continued to stare out the window at the night scene of the Forbidden Forest.

Ron groaned. Harry wanted to as well; his happy mood was replaced by one of dread. Now that they found out they were stuck with the frightening ice sculpture.

The door burst open again, this time it was Seamus, Dean and Neville coming to praise them again. Harry and Ron grinned. They could ignore the figure by the window and enjoy this guilty moment of fame…which is exactly what they did.

Toushiro's POV

Toushiro heard the door open again, this time three more boys entered, still congratulating the first two boys on their stunt.

He ignored them. He had other things to worry about. He waited until he was sure that the boys that had just got into their beds had started to snore before he pulled out his soul pager from his pocket.

Though the light on the screen showed low reception, it was enough. The jyuubantai taicho is ready to make his first report.

**End of chapter 6! Yay! Hoped everyone enjoyed it! See you in next chapter!**

**Shiro-chan: Can't you just let me go back to Soul Society? I would rather do paperwork than be with people who insists I'm a midget!**

**Me: Nope, hehe, you have to stay like a good little kid!**

**Shiro-chan: I'M NOT A KID!**

**Me: Heh *smiles evilly***

**Please review! (Every writer—especially those newbies like me—needs encouragement!)**

**Arigato!**


	7. The Innocentlooking Devils

**A/N: Hello minna! Thanks for all the incredible reviews; they made my day, totally! Special thanks Dragons-Fang for your giant cookie! (*crunch* hmm!) **

**Me: Shiro-chan! Dragons-Fang says hi!**

**Shiro-chan: To Cebad2710: IT'S HITSUGAYA! To Dragons-Fang: Ano…Hi? Whatever. **

**Me: So rude! Anyways, I don't own Bleach or Harry Potter.**

**So without further ado, here comes chapter 7 of Shiro-chan's adventure! Enjoy!**

_He ignored them. He had other things to worry about. He waited until he was sure that the boys that had just got into their beds had started to snore before he pulled out his soul pager from his pocket. _

_Though the light on the screen showed low reception, it was enough. The jyuubantai taicho is ready to make his first report. _

The next morning, the constant buzzing of magic in the air woke Toushiro up like an alarm clock. For a moment, Toushiro couldn't remember why he was surrounded by red, velvet curtains. Then he remembered that he was in Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Sighing, Toushiro got dressed and flung open the curtain. The other beds still had their curtains drawn. Silently, the young taicho went down into the deserted common room.

For breakfast, Toushiro had headed down to the Great Hall, becoming one of the first few to arrive. Hermione was already there of course, buried in her copy of _Voyages with Vampires._

"Morning Toushi—Hitsugaya!" Hermione greeted him cheerfully. Toushiro sat down beside her, glaring.

"The name is Toushiro Hitsugaya if you want to pronounce it correctly. Do not shorten it to Toushi Hitsugaya." The young taicho sipped his green tea.

"Sorry," Hermione mumbled to her book. She seemed obviously upset over something, though she hid it well. Toushiro said nothing. It was not part of his job to ensure that everyone wore sunshine on their faces during his stay.

At that moment, Toushiro noticed two familiar figures coming in through the great double doors. Harry and Ron.

Hermione didn't even look up from her book when she said a stiff 'Morning' to the two boys. _Aha_, Toushiro thought. _Upset over the way her friends arrived most probably._

Harry turned his attention towards the white-haired youth by Hermione's side, sipping a cup of weird-looking green liquid, and muttered an unwilling greeting. The two of them sat down and started on their breakfast.

"Post's due any minute—I think Gran's sending me a few things I forgot." said Neville to the quiet and awkward little group. Toushiro looked at the round-faced boy, confused.

"Post?"

"Uh, yeah. The owls bring in the post every morning." Toushiro shrugged, he doubted that anyone would send him any posts. Who does he know that could get their hands on an owl?

There was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the Hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd.

Surprisingly, Momo flew over to Toushiro, in her claws, she held a rectangular parcel that looked suspiciously like a pile of papers.

Momo took a toast in between her beak before flying off. Toushiro reached over to pick up the suspicious parcel, a feeling of dread creeping across him.

Everyone watched as the tiny taicho opened the parcel—and growled furiously like a wild animal.

Matsumoto had somehow gotten his owl and sent him _paperwork._ That lazy bum of a woman sure knows how to squirm her way out of work.

Now Toushiro had no choice but to complete the paperwork and send it back. _Matsumoto better be expecting a drop in her pay…oh and a year's worth of paperwork _without_ sake to boost her. _Toushiro thought darkly.

The now-in-a-very-sour-mood Toushiro kept away his parcel of paperwork for later.

The others were getting their mail as well. A big, lumpy parcel bounced off Neville's head, and a second later, something large and grey fell into Toushiro's kettle of green tea, spraying them all with tea and feathers. Toushiro glared at the wet spot that was spreading across his robes.

"_Errol!_" Ron said as he pulled out the lumpy feather ball and stood in on its feet. It turned out to be an owl, a very bedraggled one. Errol slumped, unconscious onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

"Oh no," Ron gasped.

"As much as I want it otherwise, it's still alive." Toushiro said, sounding extremely irritated. He dried the wet spot with a napkin while giving murderous glares at the grey lump.

"It's not that—it's _that_." Ron was pointing at the red envelope. Toushiro noticed Ron's finger was shaking. The envelope looked pretty ordinary to Toushiro, but Ron and Neville were both looking at it as if expecting it to explode. _They are afraid of an ordinary red envelope? _Toushiro rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of that picture.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry, he looked just as confused as Toushiro.

"She's—she's sent me a Howler." Ron's voice was just barely audible.

"You did better open it Ron," Neville said in a timid whisper. "My Gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and—" he gulped. "It was horrible."

"What's a Howler?" Toushiro asked, unable to contain his curiosity. This envelope seemed to have more than what that meets the eye.

He got his answer the next moment when Ron slit it open with unsteady hands. For a moment, Toushiro thought that it really had exploded. The roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

"…_STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU…" _

A woman's yells, probably Ron's mother, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People through out the Hall were swiveling around to see who has received the Howler and Ron sank so low into his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen.

"LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED..."

Toushiro, however, was fascinated by this little piece of nuisance that was making his eardrums throb. Inside, he was grinning evilly while on the outside, he was his usual cold self. If only he could set one off on Matsumoto whenever she slacks off work…

"…_ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED, YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."_

With that, the red envelope dropped from Ron's hand and burst into flames, curling into ashes. Harry and Ron both sat stunned as though Kenpachi had just challenged them to a dual.

A few people laughed and soon, a babble of talk broke out again. Hermione closed her book and looked down at the top of Ron's head. Toushiro followed her gaze, but not to reprimand Ron, just to take the opportunity to actually look _down_ at someone.

Professor McGonagall arrived at their group and handed out their time tables. When Toushiro took his, he saw that they had double Herbology with Hufflepuffs first.

Harry, Ron, Toushiro and Hermione left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch and made for the green houses, where the magical plants were kept. Harry and Ron weren't exactly thrilled when Hermione dragged Toushiro along with them.

But seeing that Hermione's mood has improved slightly after the Howler, the two of them did not want to dampen it by arguing with her over her new icy friend.

The four of them had just joined the class that was waiting outside when Professor Sprout came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart.

Toushiro saw the squat little witch that Harry had pointed out was Professor Sprout. She had her arms full of bandages. Harry had told Toushiro about their encounter with the Whomping Willow. He directed his gaze to the tree in the distance, its branches were now in slings.

Toushiro had to hold in a small laugh with a bit of effort. A tree in slings, and he thought he had seen more ridiculous stuff than this.

"Oh, hello there!" Lockhart called, beaming around at the assembled students. "Just showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels…"

Toushiro was disliking this man even lesser than he liked Malfoy. This man was just so full of himself! Seriously a pain in the neck.

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" Professor Sprout announced in a disgruntled tone. She took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door.

A wharf of damp earth and fertilizer, mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers hanging from the ceiling greeted Toushiro as he, Ron and Hermione stepped into the greenhouse.

Harry was about to follow them when Lockhart's hand shot out.

"Harry! I've been wanting a word—you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"

Judging by the scowl on the Professor's face, she did mind. But Lockhart just closed the door in her face. Professor Sprout looked as though she wouldn't mind—might have even laughed—if someone set the whole of the Eleventh Division on her colleague.

She shook her head and told the class to stand around the long table. There were a hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish in color growing in rows.

Professor Sprout had mentioned that they were going to re-pot Mandrakes today. Toushiro examined the closest plant to him without touching it. It looked quite normal except for the fact that it was occasionally twitching.

The greenhouse door opened again and Harry joined them, standing between Hermione and Toushiro.

"Now who can tell me the properties of Mandrakes?" asked Professor Sprout. Hermione's hand was the first to hit the air.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative. It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed, to their original state." Hermione sounded as if she had swallowed the textbook.

Toushiro knew the answer, having read all of the books for both first and second year in preparation, but he just didn't bother with answering the questions.

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also however dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it." Answered Hermione to nobody's surprise.

"Precisely. Take another ten points. Now, the Mandrakes we have here are all very young." Professor Sprout pointed to the earmuffs on a bench behind her. "Everyone take a pair of earmuffs."

There was a scramble as everyone tries to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy. Poor Toushiro, he got a pink and fluffy pair. Though the earmuffs block out sound entirely, Toushiro could still _see_ Ron muffling his guffaws when he saw Toushiro in his pink muffs.

The white-haired youth gave Ron a Death Glare that simply made him shake harder.

Professor Sprout waved her hands at the students to gain their attention before she grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard. Teal orbs widened in surprise.

Instead of roots, a small, muddy and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Even with the earmuffs on, Toushiro could still hear a little of the horrible, ear-splitting sound.

Professor Sprout took out a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only tufted leaves were visible. She dusted her hands and gave them a thumb-up before removing her own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," Professor Sprout sounded as though she'd just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. "However, they will knock you out for several hours." Toushiro looked at the pot in front of him again.

Gosh, such innocent-looking devils.

"Four to a tray—there is a large supply of pots here—compost in the sacks over there."

Toushiro joined Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"You look so cute in those muffs, Toushiro!" Ron exclaimed, laughing. Harry and Hermione were trying—unsuccessfully—to keep a straight face. Toushiro, on the other hand, was giving Ron Death Glares.

This time without the pink muffs, Ron stopped short his laughing and was strongly reminded of the phrase 'if looks could kill'.

After that, they didn't have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes.

The Mandrakes didn't like coming of the earth neither do they seem to want to go back in. Toushiro glared at the Mandrake he was holding. It did nothing to help with the situation; instead, it prodded the Mandrake to thrash even harder in his grip.

After the class, Toushiro was aching all over. Along with the rest of his house, the young taicho went back to the castle for a quick wash before hurrying off to Transfiguration.

Transfiguration turned out to be quite simple for the Shinigami taicho. It was pretty similar to kidou actually. Toushiro just had to channel a little of his reiatsu into the wand and he's done magic. Though it took him a few tries to get it right.

The first time he was supposed to turn his beetle into a button, the beetle ended up having a hole in the middle of its back just like a hollow. The second time, it ended up as a button scuttling around on six beetle legs.

Finally, he succeeded in a perfectly shiny coat button.

The others weren't as successful as he did. The only other person who had managed to form buttons was Hermione. Ron had himself engulfed so many times in smelly smoke that no one dared to sit near him, even Harry.

"Stupid…useless…thing…" Ron was whacking his wand furiously on the desk when the students had all filled out for lunch.

"Stop hitting the wand, Weasley. You are just lucky that you could still even use it." Toushiro eyed the Spellotaped wand, expecting it to burst into flames or something along those lines after all that whacking.

It did. It shot off a volley of fireworks and started hissing horribly. Ron groaned and shoved the useless, hissing wand into his pocket.

"That's the point! I _can't_ use it!" Ron threw his arms into the air in frustration. Harry looked at Ron's smoking pocket with a weird look on his face.

Then Ron's stomach growled. He grinned sheepishly.

"Potter, let's get away from here before Weasley eats us." Toushiro said as he turned his back towards them.

He was quite hungry as well, using up reiatsu—no matter haw much you use—always makes the user hungry. So the ravenous white-haired Shinigami headed over to the Great Hall, hoping to be able to help himself to a big bowl of soba and watermelons.

Ron and Harry both stared at the retreating back of the short, white-haired transfer, incredulous.

"Did…did that ice midget just made a joke?"

**There, another chapter of Shiro-chan's adventure done! Hoped everyone enjoyed it! See you in the next Chapter!**

**Shiro-chan: …Did I seriously just made a joke?**

**Me: Maybe, who knows, you might be serious and really thought that Ron will eat you up. *Shrug***

**Shiro-chan: *Growls and draws Hyourinmaru***

**Me: *Panic* Ah…uh, Oh, mom just called! Gotta go! *Disappears* **

**Please review! (Or I seriously won't update!) **

**Arigato!**


	8. The Icy Wrath

**A/N: Thanks for all your wonderful reviews guys! I really, really appreciate them! Special thanks to Dragons-Fangs for your chocolate-chip cookie! **

**Answer to reviews:**

**Curious reader8044: Thanks for your idea! Half of it will make its appearance next chapter! (Which half you'll have to read on! Hehe!) **

**Black Cat Angel: Toushiro is not exactly the joke-around type (he has his moments though:P) so it is quite shocking for those who know him to hear him joke. I hope that explains it!**

**Disclaimer: I DONOT own Bleach or Harry Potter!**

_Ron and Harry both stared at the retreating back of the short, white-haired transfer, incredulous._

"_Did…did that ice midget just made a joke?"_

"What do we have after lunch?" Ron asked with his mouth full. Toushiro cringed away from Ron in disgust. Ron talking with his mouth full is definitely not the prettiest sight.

"Defense Against Dark Arts," Hermione answered at once.

"Swallow your food before you speak, Weasley. It's unsightly." Toushiro said, disgusted. Ron rolled his eyes at Toushiro before returning to wolf down his food.

Once they had finished with their lunch, they headed outside into the overcast courtyard. It was the perfect weather for Toushiro; it was cooling and even helped to drone out the ever-present buzzing in the air that was starting to get under his skin.

Toushiro closed his eyes as the cool wind played in his silky white locks. The chill was just so relaxing.

Hermione was buried in her book again; Harry and Ron were deep in an animated conversation about a wizarding sport that involved flying on broomsticks with berserk, flying balls trying to seriously capacitate you. Toushiro really couldn't see the draw of the ruthless game.

Suddenly, Harry stopped in the middle of his conversation and looked behind him. Startled, Toushiro looked up as well to see a very small—about his height—mousey-haired boy he recognized as one of the first years. The boy was holding an ordinary camera.

Curse these wizards for their lack of reiatsu. Now Toushiro couldn't even sense these wizards' low-level reiatsu unless he focused because of the irritating buzz. Curse them and their magic.

The moment Harry looked at him, the boy turned bight red.

"All right, Harry? I'm—I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor too. D'you think it would be alright if I took your picture?" he raised his camera hopefully.

"A picture?" Harry asked blankly.

"So I can prove I have met you." Colin said eagerly, edging further forwards. "I know all about it. Everyone's told me. About how you survived You-Know-Who's killing curse and how he disappeared after that and how you still got that lightning-scar on your forehead." His eyes raked Harry's hairline.

Toushiro cocked a pale eyebrow. _Oh, so this is why the Potter boy was famous. He made this 'You-Know-Who'_ (Which he _didn't_ know who) _disappear by surviving a killing curse? Interesting._

"A boy in my dormitory said that if I develop the film in the right potion, the picture will actually move." Colin continued.

He drew a shuddering breath of excitement and said, "Its brilliant here, isn't it? I never knew that all those weird stuff I could do was magic till I received a letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking a load of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you." He looked at Harry expectantly. "Maybe your friend could take it and I could stand beside you? And then, could you sign it?" 

Toushiro looked amused. This is really interesting. Harry even had fans, it seems like. Ron was looking at his famous friend skeptically. _Sign it? _He mouthed to no one in particular.

"_Signed_ photos? You're giving out _signed_ photos, Potter?"

Loud and scathing, a very irritating and familiar voice echoed around the courtyard. Malfoy had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by Crabbe and Goyle, his large and thuggish evil cronies.

Toushiro's amused mood was immediately replaced by one of dislike. This boy never had given the easily-irritated taicho a good impression. Now, he was standing all smug and arrogant like he owned the world. A next Aizen-in-training.

"Everyone queue up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not." Harry hissed at Malfoy in anger, his fists clenched by his side. "Shut up, Malfoy."

Toushiro had no wish to be dragged into a magical dual with spells flying all over. If on one interferes, one of them is sure to lose at least a head.

He got up from his spot on the stairs and walked towards the little group, trying his best to not swipe off the smug head of Malfoy himself.

Geez, when did he become so emotional? Being in the wild magical world must be messing with his mind.

"Ignore him, Potter." Toushiro's voice was impassive. "He's just another one of those random things you don't need to even bother paying attention to."

Malfoy glared at the emotionless Toushiro, sneering, "Gramps would like one of your signed photos, Potter. He might be able to afford changing his hair color and even buy some stilts to add a few inches to his height."

The temperature immediately plummeted to about negative ten degrees. Toushiro appeared to be still emotionless and unchanged, but his teal eyes were no longer impassive; they were teal flames, literally burning bright with anger. The sky grew relatively darker as the clouds suddenly decided to crowd together.

Malfoy had managed to cram all the insults that Toushiro hated into one single sentence. That had immediately pushed the short-tempered young boy over the edge. Now Malfoy is going to suffer the icy wrath of the young taicho.

Malfoy's POV

Malfoy was shivering violently, not from the cold, of course. He had never seen such a terrifying look on anyone's face before; not to mention the sudden drop of temperature just now. His lips trembled and a whimper escaped from between them.

Then the transfer smirked darkly, his teal eyes still glowing. It was a truly terrifying sight, Malfoy almost expected to see fangs, horns and a tail. He tried to seek cover behind his evil cronies, but they had already disappeared to who-knows-where. Curse those useless cowards!

A few people in the audience he had gathered to embarrass Potter laughed. His plan had backfired, having gotten himself a taste of humiliation instead.

Toushiro's POV

Toushiro smirked as Malfoy trembled and whimpered under his glare. Like all bullies, he was a coward under the swagger.

"What's all this, what's all this?" suddenly, an equally irritating voice sounded. Gilderoy Lockhart was striding towards them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

Toushiro rolled his eyes a he regained control over his temper, allowing the temperature to return back to normal. Thrust this thick-headed Professor to catch the untrue statement about the topic of fame and ignore the obvious short brawl that had occurred.

"Shouldn't have asked!" Lockhart thundered jovially. Malfoy was now smirking smugly at Harry, having regained confidence by standing behind someone with more authority. Malfoy slipped back into the crowd hurriedly and disappeared.

"We meet again, Harry!" Lockhart pinned the still-angry and unwilling Harry to his side and beamed at Colin. "Come on then, Mr. Creevey. A double portrait, can't say fairer than that, and we'll both sign it for you."

Colin fumbled with his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signaling the start of afternoon classes.

Lockhart dispersed the rest of the crowd and walked off talking to Harry about not being too anxious to get more famous. Toushiro rolled his eyes to the heavens.

"That was so cool Toushiro!" Ron exclaimed as they walked a distance behind Lockhart and Harry. "Though it was suddenly freakily cold, it was even worth it to see Malfoy pee his pants! Good job glaring him down Toushiro!"

"Hn."

Hermione was quiet by Ron's side, looking as if she wanted to scold Toushiro for what happened. But what could she scold him about? All Toushiro did was to glare at Malfoy, what was wrong with that?

Finally, they reached Lockhart's classroom. Harry was eventually released and he chose a seat at the very back of the class. Ron joined him as Toushiro sat by Hermione.

What that amused Toushiro was that Harry had all seven of his textbooks piled up in front of him, blocking him entirely from view. Humans have such weird ways of thinking.

When the whole class had settled, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville's copy of _Travels with Trolls_ and held it up to show the winking portrait of him on the cover.

"Me," he said pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, the Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League and five times winner of _Witch Weekly's _Most-Charming-Smile Award—but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her!"

He waited for them to laugh; Toushiro sighed.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books—well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about—just to check how well you've read them, how much you have taken in…"

_At least Lockhart had the ability to teach a proper lesson. Maybe he wouldn't be as bad once he started teaching_. When Lockhart had handed out the test papers, he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes. Start—now!"

Toushiro looked down at his paper, ready to put what little knowledge about magic he had learnt to good use. The paper read:

_What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

_What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

_What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?_

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

_54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday and what would his ideal birthday gift be?_

Toushiro looked at the piece of paper, incredulous. The good impressions the tiny taicho had for the man had all but flew out of the window instantly.

Toushiro didn't even bother answering the questions, deciding that it would be a complete waste of time. He stuffed the test papers rather roughly under his desk and pulled out a stack of papers with weird writing all over it from his bag. The white-haired Shinigami would rather do paperwork.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected in the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut—hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I said so in _Year with a Yeti_. And few of you need to read _Wanderings with Werewolves_ more carefully—I clearly stated that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between magical and non-magical peoples—though I wouldn't say no to a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey!"

He gave the class another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with a look of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas who were sitting at the front were shaking with silent laughter.

Hermione however, was paying rapt attention. Toushiro wasn't even listening to Lockhart; he was trying to finish up the last few pieces of paperwork Matsumoto had mailed him.

Finally, Lockhart managed to get to business. He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now—be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I'm here. All I ask is for you to remain calm."

In spite of himself, Toushiro leaned forward for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cage and Seamus stopped laughing now. Neville was cowering in his front-row seat.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It may provoke them." He whipped off the cover of the cage.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "_Freshly caught Cornish pixies._"

Seamus couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" he smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not—they're not very—dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, wagging a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

Toushiro observed the pixies. They were electric blue and about eight inches in height, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover was removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and pulling bizarre faces at people nearest to them.

They don't look extremely dangerous, but one can never be too cautious. Toushiro narrowed his eyes.

Years and years of fighting experience had taught Toushiro to never judge one by their appearances. Look at him, he is one good example. His fingers wrapped around the thin stick of wood that was his wand and only weapon currently.

"Right then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" and he opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino and a mad bull combined.

"Come on now, round them up, round them up, they're only pixies…"Lockhart shouted. He rolled up his sleeves and brandished his wand. "_Pekipiksi Pessternomi!" _he bellowed.

It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized Lockhart's wand and threw it out of the windows too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squished by Neville, who fell a second later as the candelabra gave way.

While all this was happening, Toushiro had calmly cast Freezing Charms on the pixies that dared to go near him. Which was surprisingly little; the pixies tend to avoid him, scooting away, terrified, whenever they came within a five-meter radius of him. Toushiro, for one, was glad that they did.

He had no wish to be hung on the ceiling or flung out of the window.

The bell rang right then and there was a mad dash towards the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Toushiro who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask you four to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." he swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

Toushiro's hand shot out with blinding speed and grabbed a pixie that was trying to creep up on him. He tossed it into the cage carelessly. Harry looked at Toushiro in envy; the pixie that he was trying to catch stuck out its tongue at him as his hand missed again.

"I can't even believe it," Ron yelped as a pixie bit him painfully on the ear. "This man is our teacher? He's a useless moron!"

"He just wants to give us some hands on experience.' Hermione said defensively.

"_Hands-on_?" Harry questioned, he made a grab for the pixie that was now dancing out of reach with its tongue still out. "Hermione, he didn't even have a clue what he was doing."

"Rubbish," Hermione was still defensive. "You've read his books—look at all those amazing things he had done…"

"He says he's done, Granger," Toushiro sighed as he threw in the last of the out-of-control pixies into the cage.

**Yay! Took me long enough to write this chapter, I hope I could get the next chapter out faster, sigh. So I'll see you in the next chapter of Shiro-chan's re-schooling!**

**Shiro-chan: Yes that's right! You know how bad it is to stand behind the curtains and the director doesn't give you the cue to come out? *Glares and crosses arms***

**Me: Sorry Shiro-chan!**

**Shiro-chan: Grr… Don't. Call. Me. Shiro-chan. *Draws Hyourinmaru***

**Me: (Hey! Where did I go?)**

**Please review! (You have no clue how important they are to the writer!)**

**Arigato!**


	9. The Predator And The Prey

**A/N: Thank you sooooooooo much for those wonderful reviews! They totally made my day! Special thanks to Dragons-Fangs for your cookies! I do apologize for not updating for so long; I just didn't feel like writing on vacation. Anyway, merry really-late Christmas and happy early-New Year!**

**Right, on with Shiro-chan's Great British Adventure! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I DONOT own Bleach or Harry Potter.**

"_Hands-on?" Harry questioned, he made a grab for the pixie that was now dancing out of reach with its tongue still out. "Hermione, he didn't even have a clue what he was doing."_

"_Rubbish," Hermione was still defensive. "You've read his books—look at all those amazing things he had done…"_

"_He says he's done, Granger," Toushiro sighed as he threw in the last of the out-of-control pixies into the cage._

The next class Toushiro had was Potions. At the mention of the name, his three companions all groaned. Toushiro was very amused by their reactions.

"I would rather spend this period with Professor Lockhart than with Snape," Harry groaned. Ron nodded his head in agreement beside him.

Toushiro was doubtful. Was the Potions professor that bad? Seeing Toushiro's expression. Harry just shook his head and muttered tiredly, "You'll see."

Potions lesson took place down in one of the dungeons. It was a cold and dark place, though Toushiro was quite content with it.

It happens that Professor Snape was a man with greasy—it probably smells too—black hair, a hooked nose, sallow skin and cold black eyes.

He entered the class with an air of authority. His posture alone told Toushiro that Professor Snape was a no-nonsense type of person. By just walking into the class, this professor had gained—just a little—of Toushiro's respect.

He started the class by calling out the register. His voice was just as cold as his eyes showed. He stopped when he was at Toushiro's name.

"Toushiro Hitsugaya," he sneered as he looked up from the register. His cold eyes landed on Toushiro's snowy hair. "I do not know what kind of rules your original school has but I am absolutely sure that in Hogwarts, you are not allowed to dye your hair with such an _unsightly_ color."

Toushiro's eye twitched. The room got even colder than it is already.

Harry and Ron cast pitiful looks in his direction. Toushiro forced himself to stay calm and not yell his head off at the professor.

"This, _Professor Snape_, is my natural hair color. I can assure you that I have no intention what so ever to dye it." Toushiro said calmly and coolly with a tone that screamed _END OF DISSCUSION_. Teal orbs easily returned the cold glare he was receiving from Snape.

Scratch that respect part, this man now had zero percent of Toushiro's respect.

Without another word, Snape whipped out his wand and gave the direction of the black board a flick. Words stared to imprint themselves on the black surface.

"We'll be doing Deflating Draught for today's lesson. Follow the instructions on the board and I want no talking. Begin." With that, the class of students stared brewing their potions.

To Toushiro, the instructions were all clear enough, to make the perfect potion was just child's play for the child prodigy. In no time, Toushiro had a perfect Deflating Draught shimmering in his cauldron.

However, not everyone was having the white-haired taicho's skill apparently. Ron's potion was bubbling and it was a muddy brown. Harry's potion looked grayish and…was his cauldron that tiny before? Both of them were staring at their unsuccessful creations with a very lost expression.

Experimentally, Ron threw in a fistful of random herbs. His potion turned green, Ron smiled in relief and looked very proud of himself.

Then it turned into a disgusting black in a blink of an eye and started to melt his cauldron. Within seconds, Ron's cauldron was reduced to a black lump of solid. Both Ron and Harry gaped in disbelief at the lump and Ron mouthed a very desperate _my cauldron!_ at Harry.

"Hn," Toushiro looked away from the pathetic scene.

Hermione who was beside Toushiro shook her head at the two boys before tending to her own emerald green potion. She got it right too.

Snape was by the two boys' side almost immediately. He sneered mockingly at the failures.

"Feeling yourself too important to follow the instructions, Mr. Potter? Did I not state clearly to add only half a pinch of grounded beetles' wings?" behind them, Malfoy and his gang snickered; Crabbe did a silent imitation of a baby crying.

"And Mr. Weasley, that lump is definitely not what I asked for you to brew. Your low intelligence is a disgrace to my class."

Snape deducted five points each from Gryffindor and made both Harry's potion and Ron's black lump disappear.

Both boys glared swords and butcher knives at Snape's back as he advanced on his next victim with a wicked smile of anticipation. That victim he chose just happened to be a certain white-haired youth.

Snape's wicked smile disappeared and was replaced by a disappointed sneer as he glared at the perfect potion shimmering innocently in its cauldron, unaware that it was irritating the hell out of a certain Snape with its perfection.

The bat-like professor sniffed around the potion looking for just a tiny bit of mistake the transfer could have made, he found none.

Snape glared angrily into the teal orbs of Toushiro. They were brimming with smugness as the white-haired youth glared back, a sinister smirk on his lips. Toushiro could have sworn Snape _growled _at him before turning on his heels and storming away.

At that moment, there was a loud pop and Toushiro ducked just in time as a flaming cauldron whizzed past where his head was just a fraction of a second ago. When he got up, Toushiro turned his icy gaze to where the cauldron flew from, searching for the guilty.

_Which one was that bastard? _Toushiro thought._ Oh…well…in that case, never mind._

Snape extinguished the flames in the cauldron with a wave of his wand and asked in a cold voice, "Whose cauldron is this?"

Neville raised a shaky hand just above his eye level. He had his shoulders hunched and was visibly trembling.

Snape's sneer turned into a twisted version of a smile. He eyed Neville just as a predator would a prey.

"Can't you read the instructions, you good-for-nothing? Did you follow the third line on the board?" Neville shrunk back from Snape's harsh words and peeked timidly at the board. His eyes widened and he gulped.

"I…I didn't…s-see that l-l-line…" Neville whimpered. Toushiro gritted his teeth at the verbal abuse. Snape seems to enjoy seeing his students suffer. Toushiro wanted to defend Neville, but he couldn't do anything that might endanger his mission like attracting attention to himself. Toushiro seethed in silent frustration.

"Just as expected of your thick skull, Longbottom. Ten points from Gryffindor!" Snape declared, throwing one arm into the air as if in victory and strode to the front of the class again.

"I want a thirteen inch long essay describing the use of the Deflating Draught, to be handed in by next Monday! Class dismissed!"

The moment those words left Snape's mouth, students all made a beeline for the exit, all too happy to leave the horrors of the dungeons.

"Toushiro!" Hermione's voice sounded as Toushiro stepped out of the dungeons.

"It's Hitsugaya," Toushiro snapped, irritated. Hermione was unfazed by Toushiro's obviously sour mood.

"Oh sorry," she didn't sound sorry at all. "I was just wondering how you got such a perfect potion in such a short time! I mean, it needs time to brew and—" Toushiro jut cut her off with an 'Hn' and a shrug to spare his ears the unstoppable babbling that was sure to be coming.

Hermione wasn't too happy about the lack of information, but it was clear she wasn't going to get an answer from the tiny white-haired boy. She satisfied herself by indulging in the textbook for their next class. Harry and Ron looked at the white back of Toushiro's head to the reading Hermione. They looked at each other and shrugged, having no clue what had just occurred.

The rest of the day past without an accident, well, if you didn't count the one where the paperweight Toushiro was supposed to levitate rocketed towards the tiny Professor Flitwick and hit him right smack in between the eyes. That left the poor professor mumbling about flying cheesecakes for the entire day.

All in all, when dinner came around, Harry and Ron were both groaning about how much homework they had and Hermione wasn't willing to save them; Hermione lecturing them both about doing their homework themselves; Toushiro just trying to tune them all out. Yep, all normal.

As the students all dug into their dinner, Toushiro just sat quietly watching those around him eat while he sipped his green tea.

"Aren't you eating, Hitsugaya?" Hermione asked, concerned as the white-haired transfer had not even touched anything else other than that ceramic teapot and the cup. Harry's emerald eyes looked at him from behind those glasses with concern as well. Only Ron, who was stuffing his face with chicken, was oblivious to his surroundings.

Toushiro just shook his head, "I'm not hungry." That's true. He hadn't use that much of his reiatsu to make him hungry. He practically didn't need food to replenish his energy.

Hermione nodded hesitantly, not quite believing Toushiro's words. However, she put on a cheerful smile at the thought of something else.

"How was your first day in Hogwarts?"

"Different from what I imagined definitely." Toushiro said nonchalantly and took another sip from his cup.

Hermione waited for him to continue but Toushiro just poured himself another cup of tea from the teapot, indicating that he wished to talk about it no more.

Hermione turned back to her dinner unsatisfied with the lack of elaboration. Ron, who had missed the entire conversation, just looked blankly at Hermione's disgruntled face. He tried to ask Harry what was wrong—with his mouth _bulging_ with food—and was waved off by a very disgusted Harry.

Toushiro shook his head. _Some people just never learn._

**Done with Chapter nine! Oh my, going on double digits! *whoops and cheers* Hoped you enjoyed it! See ya guys in next chapter!**

**Shiro-chan: Why the heck was I so bad at Charms?**

**Me: No idea. Cheesecakes rock! *Starts eating cheesecakes***

**Shiro-chan: *Picks up the phone* Moshi moshi is this the mental hospital?**

**Me: Hey! Traitor! *Continues eating cheesecakes***

**Please review! (Those who does get free cheesecakes!)**

**Arigato!**


	10. The Pot Calling The Kettle Black pt I

**A/N: Heyo minna! Thank you for all your amazing reviews, I really appreciate them! **

**Anyhoo, we have finally hit double chapter-digits! I was so surprised! (Usually I give up on a story before I even hit seven.) And so as thanks to my wonderful readers, I shall post double chapters this time! Enjoy!**

**Answers to reviews:**

**Bookist: Um… I'm not exactly sure either… the manga never said anything much about paper work so I'm just imagining:) **

**Captain Bitch Ninja: Thanks for pointing that out, I'll change it right away!**

**Disclaimer: I DONOT own Bleach or Harry Potter.**

_Hermione waited for him to continue but Toushiro just poured himself another cup of tea from the teapot, indicating that he wished to talk about it no more._

_Hermione turned back to her dinner unsatisfied with the lack of elaboration. Ron, who had missed the entire conversation, just looked blankly at Hermione's disgruntled face. He tried to ask Harry what was wrong—with his mouth bulging with food—and was waved off by a very disgusted Harry._

_Toushiro shook his head. Some people just never learn._

The next few days spent at Hogwarts were somewhat uneventful, which was both a good thing and a bad thing.

The good thing was the lessons. They were indeed interesting in their own ways; some were even quite helpful with his mission (History of Magic by the monotonous ghost that nearly put the young taicho to sleep, _nearly._). Toushiro even came to like a few lessons.

For example, Transfiguration taught by the strict-but-kind-in-her-own-way McGonagall, Charms by the one being shorter than himself (he was proud to look down at the Professor), Flitwick and lastly, and surprisingly, Herbology. It was always good to know which plants would bite off your nose if you lean too close.

Here comes the bad thing: it was too calm. There had been absolutely no Hollow attacks. It was a feat almost impossible considering the fact that there was a Captain-Class Shinigami—who didn't even _try_ to conceal his reiatsu, even _flared_ it occasionally in a few childish tantrums—in the area. The buzzing of magic at the back of his head only added to his unease.

Underneath, his instincts told him to beware. It was like the calm before the storm.

The weekend arrived soon and Toushiro, for one, was glad that it had been a chilly morning. He got up early as usual and changed quickly into his uniform. Toushiro contemplated for a second whether he should wear the cloak and decided against it. He wanted enjoy the cold as much as he could.

With that, Toushiro headed off to the field he'd seen to send off another report to Soul Society.

Harry's POV

Harry was roughly shaken awake several hours earlier than he would have liked by Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Whatssamatter?" Harry mumbled groggily, can't he just sleep a little more?

"Quidditch practice!" Wood said with much enthusiasm. "Get that sleeping butt moving!"

Harry squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold horizon. Now that he was awake, he couldn't understand how he had slept through all that ruckus the birds were making.

"Oliver," Harry groaned. "It's the crack of dawn."

"Exactly," Wood said with unwavering enthusiasm. He was a tall and burly sixth year and, at that moment, his eyes were gleaming with a slightly crazed look in them. "It's part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go!" Wood's cherry mood was unstoppable.

Yawning and shivering slightly in the cold morning, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes.

"Good man," Wood nodded in approval. "Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes." And the sixth year was gone on his merry way to wake up more sleeping members of the team.

Once he was all dressed and ready, Harry scribbled a note to Ron explaining where he was gone. That was when his eyes landed on the empty bed beside Ron, the one next to the window that he completely missed when he was not wearing his glasses.

It belonged to the white-haired transfer didn't it? Harry frowned. The bed was neatly made and the black cloak was also neatly folded at the foot of the bed, it looked like Hitsugaya had already been up a long while before Harry. That strange boy was definitely a morning bird.

Assuming from the fact that Hitsugaya didn't wear the cloak, Harry was certain that he would meet the white-haired youth in the common room.

Harry went down the spiral staircase, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. He was met with the empty common room. Harry frowned again. Was Hitsugaya _insane_ to go out on a day like this without his cloak?

However, all thoughts about the strange behavior of the transfer vanished like thin smoke when he heard a clatter behind him. Colin Creevey came dashing down the stairs, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

Harry inwardly groaned at the sight of his young—to put it simply—stalker. Really, this boy seems to have memorized Harry's schedule, always appearing to say an "Alright, Harry?" just to hear a "Hullo, Colin," back, however exasperated Harry sounded when he said it.

He had his suspicions that this had something to do with Hitsugaya. He once saw Colin asking Hitsugaya something and received a piece of paper in response that looked suspiciously like a timetable.

"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed; I just wanted to show you—"

Harry looked bemusedly at the photograph brandished under his nose.

A moving black-and-white Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm Harry recognizes as his own. He was glad that his photographic-self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be dragged into view. As Harry watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

"Will you sign it?" asked an eager Colin.

"No," Harry said flatly. "Sorry Colin, I'm in a hurry—Quidditch practice—"

He climbed through the portrait hole.

"Oh, wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game before!"

Colin scrambled through the hole after him.

"It'll be really boring," Harry tried to shake off his second shadow, but Colin ignored him, he was too excited to listen.

"You were the youngest house member in a hundred years, weren't you, Harry? Weren't you?" Colin trotted alongside him. "That must be brilliant! I've never flown, is it easy? Is that your broom? Is it the best one there is?"

Harry sighed as he listened to the relentless chatter issuing from the young Gryffindor. He had absolutely no idea how to get rid of him.

Toushiro's POV

Toushiro sat cross-legged on the grass back-facing the Quidditch pitch, his eyes were closed and he looked peaceful as he meditated.

After he had finished sending his report, the young taicho had decided a meditation wasn't exactly a bad idea. The environment was basically quiet other than occasional soft, muffled voices coming from the changing rooms by the side.

After a while, however, it seems like the Gryffindor Quidditch team has started their practice session. The sounds of shouting and things clashing could be heard as the members practiced.

Though Toushiro would have been very happy if they just went away, he wasn't an unreasonable person. It was very similar to the sounds his Division made when they were training. Commands ("Beaters to Position A, D and F!") were on Toushiro's 'Accepted' list when he meditates.

And about that irritating clicking noise coming from somewhere on the stands, Toushiro wasn't about to lose his voice yelling just so that person could hear.

It wasn't long before that strained peace was disrupted too.

"Flint!" bellowed a voice. A pair of icy teal eyes snapped open, irritated. "This is our practice time! We got up speci—"

Toushiro closed his eyes again, failing miserably to tune out the voices that were gradually getting louder. Argument is a HUGE no-no.

"—nny you should mention Draco's father, let me show you the generous gift—" an irritating name said by an equally irritating voice. Toushiro could feel his patience burning out faster than Yachiru inhaling sweets.

"—only came out last month—" veins started popping now.

"—outstrips the Two Thousand series by a considerate amount—"

"Urusai…" Toushiro growled. Frost crept across the grass around the irritated youth.

"—as for old Cleansweep Fives, sweeps the board with them." Snap.

"WILL YOU _**BAKA**_ SHUT THE DAMNED HELL UP? YOU ARE MAKING MY FREAKING EARDRUMS EXPLODE! SHUT IT OR I WILL SEW UP THAT TRAP OF YOURS!" Toushiro yelled, surprising all the people present. None of them had noticed Toushiro until that moment.

With another icy glare sent their way, Toushiro turned back to his original position and tried to continue his meditation. _Kuso…I can't consentrate anymore…_

"The pot calling the kettle black…" Ron mumbled and rubbed his ears. "_My_ eardrums are definitely shattered…"

"Tch, weird midget," Flint growled under his breath. A visible anger mark started pulsing at the back of Toushiro's white head. "Anyways, it's our practice time now, so scram."

"The Gryffindors booked the pitch and it's theirs, not yours!" Toushiro meshed his teeth together, don't they ever listen?

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood," Malfoy spat with much venom.

Toushiro knew at once that Malfoy had said something bad because of the violent reaction to the word in the Gryffindor team. There was a loud bang and Toushiro's instincts gave him a second of warning barely enough to jump out of the way as Ron landed on the spot he had previously occupied.

"Ron! Ron! Are you alright?" Hermione squealed as she ran towards the fallen boy along with Harry. Toushiro just stood to the side, watching in disgust as Ron gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his opened mouth onto his lap. Gross.

The Slytherin team was rolling on the ground with laughter. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron who kept belching large glistening slugs. The sight was disgusting enough to make even Kurotsuchi-taicho cringe.

"We better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," Harry finally broke the silence. Hermione nodded bravely. Seeing that they had a bit of difficulty, Harry looked beseechingly to Toushiro for help.

The white-haired youth sighed and helped, touching as little of Ron as he could.


	11. The Pot Calling The Kettle Black pt II

"What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him can't you?" Colin had run down from his seat and was dancing alongside them as they left the field. Ron gave another belch and Toushiro's snow-white locks narrowly missed being covered in slime.

"Oooh," Colin said, fascinated and raised his camera. "Can you hold him still, Harry?"

"Move out of the way, Creevey/Colin!" Toushiro and Harry both said angrily. Toushiro want to touch the slime on Ron's shirt no more than he already did.

"Nearly there, Ron," Hermione said as a little run-down cabin came into view. Toushiro supposed that was where Hagrid lived.

They were within twenty feet of the cabin when the front door opened. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of the palest mauve today, came striding out.

"Quick, behind here," Harry hissed. Toushiro groaned inwardly. God forbid this to end already. He along with the other two was dragged behind a nearby bush.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you are doing," Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid. "I'll sign one of my books and send one over tonight—I'm surprised you didn't have one already." And he strode away to the castle.

They waited until Lockhart was completely out of sight before knocking gently on Hagrid's door.

Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but he brightened up once he saw who it was.

"If it isn't 'Arry and the new transfer! Come in, come in—thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again—"

Harry hastily explained the situation to Hagrid as Toushiro washed his hands clean of the sticky slime at the sink.

"Better out than in," Hagrid said cheerfully, plunking a large copper basin in front of Ron. "Get 'em all out, Ron." Toushiro sat down on a chair as well.

"It wasn't the easiest curse to cast at the best of times and with a broken wand—" Hermione mumbled anxiously, mostly to herself. Toushiro was instead paying attention to the conversation between Harry and Hagrid.

"What does Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?"

"Givin' me advice on getting' kelpies out of the well," growled Hagrid. "Like I don't know. An' bangin' 'bout some banshee he banished. If a word of what he said was true, I'll eat my kettle."

Hermione sounded offended as she defended Lockhart.

"I think you are being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore only picks the best man for the job—"

"He was the _on'y _man for the job," Hagrid corrected. "Hard ter get a new man, now. Many are hesitant in gettin' the position. Think it's jinxed, yer see." Toushiro snorted softly. _Makes sense._

"So tell me, who was he tryin' ter curse?" Hagrid said, jerking his head at Ron.

"Malfoy called Granger a mudblood," Toushiro spoke up for the first time. Ron belched another mouthful of slugs. Hagrid looked outraged.

"He didn'!"

"He did." Toushiro snapped. Patience and tolerance just wasn't something the irritable youth had to spare at the moment.

"That jerk! It was the most insulting thing he could ever think of for a muggle-born wizard!" Ron exclaimed angrily before he dodged down and another wave of slugs made their appearance.

"Well, I don't blame yer fer tryin' ter curse him, Ron. Bu' maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. 'Spect Lucious Malfoy would've come marchin' up ter school if yer'd cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble."

Harry had an unbelievable look on his face, but he kept his mouth shut. Most probably because he couldn't open it due to the Treacle toffee he just ate. That stuff looked sickly sweet and sticky, Toushiro was glad that he never touched it.

Soon after, they—Toushiro excluded—were in a smooth conversation—with the exception of a few waves of slimy pests—about trivial stuff such as the charmed giant pumpkins for the upcoming Halloween Feast. Toushiro mostly listened, filing away a few interesting things he heard for later investigation.

It was only until lunchtime did they (Harry, Ron and Hermione) heard their stomachs voice their needs loudly. Hermione blushed while the two boys rubbed the back of their heads in embarrassment.

"Hn," Without waiting for the trio to finish saying their goodbyes to Hagrid, the young taicho was the first to lead the way back to the castle. The temperature was getting warmer—just slightly—and Toushiro just couldn't stand it, his irritable mood was still at its peak.

They did barely set foot in the much cooler entrance hall when a stern voice rang out, "There you are, Potter—Weasley." Professor McGonagall was walking towards them with a stern expression. Toushiro stopped too, curious. "You'll be doing your detentions this evening."

"What're we doing, Professor?" asked Ron. He nervously suppressed a burp.

"_You_ will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch. No magic please—elbow grease."

Argus Filch, Toushiro had heard that name being mentioned somewhere along the corridors by students. He was the very much hated caretaker of the school. Toushiro even had the pleasure of meeting him once.

And that was the first time the white-haired youth was accused of littering when he flicked a speck of dust from his sleeve. Let's just say that the meeting wasn't at all pleasant.

"And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail."

"Oh n—Professor, can't I go to the trophy room too?" Harry asked desperately. Toushiro could certainly understand Harry's thoughts right now, if it was him, he wouldn't want to see that face—or rather _faces_—either.

"Certainly not, Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp both of you." Professor McGonagall turned her eyes to the last male of the group, scanning his not-so-warm attire with a disapproving stare. "I do believe it's rather cold to be wearing such attire, Hitsugaya."

Toushiro shrugged, he had his arms crossed casually, showing no signs of discomfort.

"I'm better this way." With one last frown in his direction, Professor McGonagall turned and disappeared around the corner.

Harry's POV

Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed to be seconds, it was five minutes to eight, and Harry was dragging his feet along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart's office. He gritted his teeth and knocked.

The door flew open at once. Lockhart beamed down at him.

"Ah, here's the scalawag! Come in, Harry, come in—"

Shining brightly on the walls by many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile lay at his desk.

"You can address the envelopes!" Lockhart exclaimed as if it was a great honor. "The first one is to—" Harry drowned out Lockhart's useless ramblings and gave occasional monosyllabic response when he felt like it. Overall, it was boring.

The candles burned lower and lower, casting eerie shadows on the many moving faces of Lockhart watching him. Harry moved his aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, writhing out Veronica Smethley's address. _It must be nearly time to leave,_ thought Harry miserably. _Please let it be nearly time…_

Then, he heard something.

It was a voice, a voice that chilled to the bone marrow, a voice of breath-taking, ice-cold venom.

"_Come…come to me…let me rip you…let me tear you…let me kill you…_"

Harry jumped up from his seat; a large lilac blot appeared on Veronica Smethley's street.

"_What?_" he asked loudly.

"I know!" Lockhart exclaimed, glad that he finally had an enthusiastic response from Harry. "Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!"

"No," Harry said frantically. "That voice!"

"Sorry? What voice?"

"That—that voice that said—didn't you hear it?" Lockhart looked at Harry in high astonishment.

"What are you talking about Harry? Perhaps you are getting drowsy? Great Scott—look at the time! Time really flies doesn't it?"

Harry didn't answer. He was straining his ears to hear the voice again, but there was no sound except for Lockhart telling him he mustn't expect a treat like this every time he got detention. Feeling dazed, Harry left.

It was so late that the Gryffindor common room was almost empty. Harry went straight up to the dormitory. There were two beds empty, one was Ron's and the other was Hitsugaya's. He pulled on his pajamas, got into bed and waited. Half an hour later, Ron arrived, nursing his right arm and smelling strongly of polish.

"My muscles have all seized up," Ron groaned, sinking onto his bed. "Fourteen times he made me buff up that Quidditch cup before he was satisfied. And I had another slug attack all over a Special Award for Services to the School. Took ages to get the slime off… How's it with Lockhart?"

Keeping his voice low so as to not wake Neville, Dean and Seamus, Harry told Ron exactly what he heard.

"And Lockhart said he couldn't hear it?" said Ron. Harry could see him frowning in the moonlight. "D'you think he was lying? But I don't get it—even if someone invisible would've to open the door."

"I know," Harry sighed, lying back on the four-poster bed, staring at the red canopy above him. "I don't get it either."

Else where in Hogwarts 

"Kuso…hollow escaped."

**Yay! I am finally moving onto the action! Hope you enjoyed these two chapters! See you people in the next chapter!**

**Please review! (Be a writer to understand the importance of every single review)**

**Arigato!**


	12. The Raw Breath Of Danger

**A/N: Thank you people for your lovely reviews! I really appreciate them! This chapter came out a bit weird-sounding (at least to me) because I wasn't exactly in a good mood when I wrote it. So bear with me kudasai! *smiles* **

**Anyways, we shall go on to another chapter of Shiro-chan's magical adventure! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I DONOT own Bleach or Harry Potter.**

"_And Lockhart said he couldn't hear it?" said Ron. Harry could see him frowning in the moonlight. "D'you think he was lying? But I don't get it—even if someone invisible would've to open the door."_

"_I know," Harry sighed, lying back on the four-poster bed, staring at the red canopy above him. "I don't get it either."_

_Else where _

"_Kuso…hollow escaped."_

Toushiro cursed as he glared at the spot the hollows had previously occupied, his white haori swishing from side to side in the cold night breeze.

Damn it! If he had been paying more attention to his surroundings, it wouldn't have happened and the hollows wouldn't have opened a Garanta!

This is all the fault of that _voice_. That cold, evil voice oozing with murderous intent.

FLASHBACK

Toushiro was walking back to the common room from his midnight stroll on the roof. It was a beautiful view on top, the star-less sky had always been a magnificent sight.

"_Come…come to me…let me rip you…let me tear you…let me kill you…_"

It was a whisper, a savage whisper that promised blood.

Toushiro stiffened. The alarm bells in his head went off as he searched the area for unusual reiatsu with his own through the buzzing in the air. His hand was already reaching for the candy dispenser in his pocket.

He didn't relax when his search turned out negative. Cautiously, Toushiro pressed his ear on the wall that the voice seemed to come from. Nothing except for the ringing silence.

Toushiro's brows furrowed, had he imagined it?

_BEEP BEEP!_

His soul pager interrupted, signaling the position of a few nearby hollows. Toushiro cursed again. He swallowed a pill and _shunpo_-ed to the location as quickly as he possibly could.

He was too late. He arrived just in time to see the Garanta close behind the hollows. The body of a wizened old witch lay bloody and maimed, at the foot of a tree.

FLASHBACK END

A small, pale knuckle slammed into a near-by tree trunk, leaving broken splinters around the dent.

_Damned hollows! _The young taicho turned his back on the bloody body and headed back to Hogwarts. _I'll need to patrol every night for hollows now…kami…I'm liking magic less and less…_

**~ Soten Ni Saze ~**

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. To the white-haired ice-wielder, it was a really good thing.

The number of hollows had increased drastically this past month. Though it wasn't a number Toushiro couldn't handle, he was irritated. These hollows always appeared on the same spot: in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.

It was just irritating, as if these hollows appeared in the same place to taunt him. _Is this some new tactic of Aizen's? To irritate the hell out of the Shinigami?_

Teal orbs glared at the screen of his soul pager, his half-written report displayed on the bright screen. With a sigh, he snapped it shut, he will finish it later. He crossed his hands behind his head and stared at the clear night sky. The breeze played in his snowy locks.

There had been fireworks last time he ever stared at such a clear sky in Soul Society. Matsumoto, Hinamori and—unfortunately—Aizen prepared a surprise-birthday party for him.

"—Five hundredth death day—" he heard the voice of the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly-Headless Nick said to someone. What a coincidence.

Those ghosts could still remember the day they died? Huh. Guess that when you were doomed to roam the earth forever and never reach Soul Society, you get to keep your memories intact.

Toushiro snorted as he remembered that time when he tried to perform konso on one of them.

The hilt went right through even though he could still hold on to them. They had made the choice of moving on or not when they died. So now they are stuck here for eternity.

All Toushiro could say about this was: what an idiotic decision. It can't be helped; death had been the fear of many people after all.

He closed his eyes, sudden fatigue washed over him. _A nap on the roof should be in order…_

~**Soten Ni Zase~**

October was nearing an end; the school seems to be anticipating the Halloween feast. From what Toushiro heard, it was a very interesting event. He personally thought that it wasn't a joyous festival that's worth celebrating at all.

Ukitake had made it an absolute point to present a certain poor Shiro-chan with mountain-sized candy-towers every Halloween. Even if he hadn't knocked on Ukitake's door dressed like a snowman.

It wasn't an exception this time either. However, Matsumoto must have participated too because the mountain of teeth-rotteners was delivered along with another stack of paperwork by an exhausted Momo.

All the other students stared at the huge pile of candy with envy, saliva dripping out of the corners of their mouth. Ron and Harry both stared at it, Ron's fingers inching towards the closest bar of chocolate. Hermione smacked those thieving fingers, of course, but she couldn't hide the amazement in her eyes.

It was unbelievable how such a small owl could deliver such a load in one trip and what's even more unbelievable was the sheer amount of candy delivered to _one, single_ _person_.

The actual receiver of this gift was another story altogether, though.

He managed to keep his head with a HUGE effort and pulled something that looked suspiciously like an envelop out of his pockets. Once Momo had her share of a powdered donut, Toushiro placed a brown package in her beak.

"Momo," he told the owl seriously, brown orbs stared back just as seriously. "Take this to the person who had sent those things, wakatta?" Momo nodded her tiny head and was off in a flurry of feathers. Toushiro leaned back against his chair, satisfied.

Hermione was the first to speak up.

"Um, Hitsugaya…not to be rude but…was that…a Howler and an Exploding Quill you just sent back?"

"Maybe…" the white-haired transfer just gave a shrug. He got up and prepared to leave. "I would very much appreciate it if you could help me 'clear up' that pile over there." He jerked his thumb at the candy and was gone within seconds.

The candy he left behind was gone in half that time.

~**Soten Ni Zase~**

Harry's POV

Harry was all cold by now, not to mention hungry.

The death day party they had sacrificed their Halloween feast for had turned out to be a party by the dead for the dead. It was really no place for the living.

The food was all rotten and inedible and the music there was just plain screeching on the violin. It was just unbearable.

"I can't stand much more of this," Ron muttered, teeth chattering together audibly.

"Let's go," Hermione agreed.

They backed towards the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked at them, and a minute later were hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles.

"Pudding might not be finished yet," Ron said hopefully. "Hitsugaya might have saved some food for us too." Harry hoped that Ron was right for once and the transfer would be nice enough to do that. Hermione led the way to the entrance hall.

And then Harry heard it.

"…_rip…kill…tear…"_

The same whispering voice, except this time it was so much more violent, so much more dangerous. It was like the raw breath of danger.

Harry stumbled to a halt, clutching the stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

"Harry, what are you—"

"It's that voice again—shut up a minute—"

"…_soo hungry…for so long…"_

"Listen!" Harry urged urgently. Ron and Hermione froze, watching him.

"_Kill… its time to kill…"_

The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away—moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom the stone ceilings do not matter?

"This way!" he shouted, running up the stairs into the entrance hall. Harry strained to hear the voice over the loud commotion the students in the Great Hall were making over the Halloween feast.

He sprinted up the stairs again. The voice was still growing fainter.

"…_I smell blood…I SMELL BLOOD!"_

His stomach lurched—

"It's going to kill someone!" he shouted, ignoring Ron's and Hermione's bewildered faces as they trailed behind him.

They didn't stop until they came to the last, deserted passage. Well, almost deserted.

They lurched to a stop as they took in the scene before them. Shimmering in the light cast by flaming torches, foot-high words had been daubed on the stone wall, written with fresh blood.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

A large puddle of water leaked out of the broken toilet at the side, reflecting the whole of this bloody scene.

But why _almost_ deserted? The answer is simple; there is someone who got there before them.

There, standing directly beneath the body of Mrs. Norris—who was hanging by her tail from a torch bracket—with his hand out-stretched as if to touch the body and the conspicuous head of white hair was the mysterious transfer student, Hitsugaya Toushiro.

The white-haired transfer didn't give a second glance towards the trio or the crowd of surprised, murmuring students that had just exited the hall.

He didn't even seem to notice the triumphant shout Malfoy made, "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

Hitsugaya's cold, teal orbs glanced up at somewhere next to the words and his lips curved into a sinister smirk.

**I'm so sorry about the lack of action this chapter, I realized I made a mistake last chapter and it didn't exactly match the pre-written chunks of words I saved…gomenasai ˄.˄" hopefully, I'll get to use those chunks soon enough… anyhoo, here's a little Omake!**

Omake

Rangiku smiled to herself in satisfaction. The sweets Ukitake had prepared should be able to put taicho in a better mood so that he will do those paperwork sent along with it. This plan was just so ingenious!

The busty fuku-taicho hummed a happy song as she downed another bottle of sake in one go. A little flushed, Rangiku yelled to no one in particular, "I'm the smartest *hic* Shinigami *hic* in history*hic*!"

A sudden flurry of wings putted her near-zero attention to the opened window. There stood Momo, her kawaii taicho's pet owl.

"Heya *hic* lil' fella!" Rangiku grinned and held out her arm. The owl's sharp claws hooked onto her forearm, they were sharp enough to draw blood. However, Rangiku was just too drunk to notice.

Momo placed the brown package she held in her beak onto Rangiku's lap and fluttered away immediately as if she was afraid that the package would explode. Rangiku scratched her head in confusion as she stared after the escaping bird.

Then she decided that Toushiro's gift for her was much more important. Shrugging, she danced over back to the package she left on her sofa.

"Maa…let's see what taicho bought me~!"

A muffled explosion was heard from the Tenth Division barracks. The peace of Seireitei was yet again broken by the magically amplified yells of a particular young taicho of the above-mentioned Division.

"MATSUMOTO!"

**Haha! Hoped everyone enjoyed this chapter! See ya guys in the next** **chapter! Bye bye~!**

**Just a random question: Have anyone heard of James Potter and The Hall of Elders' Crossings? Thanks again for listening to me ramble!**

**Please review! (Or I seriously won't update!) **

**Arigato!**


	13. The Recent Survivor

**A/N: Hello minna! Thank you guys for your awesome reviews! I really appreciate them! Special thanks to CommandTact for pointing out my mistakes, they are corrected now! So here comes the next chapter of Shiro-chan's Britain adventure! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I DONOT own Bleach or Harry Potter.**

_He didn't even seem to notice the triumphant shout Malfoy made, "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"_

_Hitsugaya's cold, teal orbs glanced up at somewhere next to the words and his lips curved into a sinister smirk. _

"What's going on here? What's going on?" attracted by no doubt Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then, he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked, eyes popping. Then his gaze settled on Toushiro and the stunned trio.

"_You!_" he screeched, his bony finger pointing accusingly at Toushiro, who was the nearest to the seemingly-dead cat.

Toushiro rolled his eyes in annoyance. Has he ever heard of the word 'evidence'? Or the phrase 'innocent until proven guilty'? Seriously, if he really was the culprit, would he be dumb enough to stay at the crime scene?

"_You!_ You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll—"

"Argus!"

The mad caretaker's rant was stopped by the commanding voice of Dumbledore. Toushiro looked up to see Dumbledore walking briskly towards them, followed by a number of other teachers.

In seconds, he swept past the bored-looking Toushiro and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch basket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You too, Mr. Hitsugaya, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Ms Granger." From the corner of his eye, Toushiro saw Ron made a face at Harry that clearly said _why me?_

Harry didn't see it. His eyes were fixed in an accusing glare at Toushiro.

Toushiro couldn't care less about the bespectacled boy. He was more interested in the line of frantically escaping spiders on the wall.

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is the nearest, Headmaster—just upstairs—please feel free—"

"Thank you, Gilderoy." Dumbledore interrupted, sounding slightly annoyed.

The silent crowd parted then to let them pass. Lockhart looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore (Toushiro imagined him with a wagging tail); so did Professor McGonagall and Snape.

Toushiro spared one last glance at the bloody words on the wall, before following the Professors with his hands in his pockets. He could feel Harry's gaze still on his back, he ignored it.

As they entered Lockhart's darkened office, there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Toushiro saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers.

The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back.

Dumbledore laid Mrs. Morris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Toushiro observed the cat from a distance as well.

It was quite interesting that the cat was like a stone statue even though it was still alive. He was definitely including this in his next report.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were hiding outside the pool of candlelight, feeling very extra in this scene.

Dumbledore's nose was just barely an inch from Mrs. Norris's fur, looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking.

Professor McGonagall was bent just as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing the most peculiar expression: it was as though he was trying very hard not to smile.

And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions—unhelpfully annoying ones.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her—probably the Transmorifigan Torture—I've seen it many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very contercurse that would have saved her…"

Hearing this, Filch sobbed even harder than he already did. He slumped further into his chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands.

Toushiro shot an irritated glance at Filch; just the death of a cat made him such a rack. What a useless fellow, he would never allow such behavior in his Division.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand, but nothing happened. She still looked like a recent survivor—or victim, depending on your view point—of the ice taicho's shikai.

"…I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou," Lockhart rambled on. "A series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared up the matter at once…"

The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair net.

At last, Dumbledore straightened up.

"She's not dead, Argus." _Finally!_ Toushiro was just about to clock the time for the wizards to notice that.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

"Not dead?" croaked Filch, looking through his fingers at his beloved cat. Hermione perked up at the back of the room, surprised at the new revelation and excited at the thought of new knowledge. "But why's she all—all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified." Dumbledore said, a new crease formed on his already-wrinkled forehead. ("Ah! I though so!" Lockhart exclaimed, slamming a fist onto his palm.) "But how, I cannot say…"

"Ask _them!_" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tear-streaked face to the startled trio and a curious Toushiro.

"No second year could have done this," Dumbledore said firmly, though his twinkling blue eyes flickered to Toushiro for a moment before returning to Filch. "It would take the most advanced of Dark Magics—"

"He did it! He did it!" Filch spat, his dirty finger pointed accusingly at Toushiro. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! Harry must have told all his cult members that I'm a—I'm a—" Filch's face worked horribly. "He knows that I'm a Squib!" he finished, panting.

"I didn't even touch a hair on that cat's body." Toushiro said coldly, he was very irritated with being blamed of things he didn't do. "Potter didn't tell me anything about him knowing that you are a squid either. I wouldn't believe it even if he did, by the way."

"Hitsugaya! It's a _Squib_, not a _squid_!" Ron whispered frantically behind him. _Whoops…_

Filch flushed a deep purple, one could almost see the steam pouring out of his ears.

"Who said anything about being a squid? Stop pretending and admit it!" Filch snarled.

"If I might speak Headmaster," Snape interjected from the shadows, Toushiro was sure that whatever that came out of that man's mouth would _not_ help the situation at all.

"Hitsugaya and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, a sneer on his face, as if he was disgusted by himself for helping them. "However, we do have a set of suspicions here. Why were they in the upstairs corridor at all? Why weren't they at he Halloween feast?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione all launched into an explanation of the death day party, "… there were hundreds of ghosts, and they'll tell you we were there—"

"And wasn't Hitsugaya with you?" Snape cut in, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight.

Harry's POV

Ron looked at Hermione and Hermione looked at Harry. They didn't know what to say, Toushiro wasn't with them after all. Should they help the transfer or should they not?

"I was at the feast."

All eyes turned to the white-haired youth. He was still standing in a relaxed stance, hands in his pockets, his teal orbs observing those in front of him coldly. The temperature around them seemed to get lower.

"I was on my way back to the dormitories after the feast and just happened to pass by the crime scene." The white-haired transfer sounded impatient as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

The temperature dropped even lower. Harry could feel Goosebumps forming on his arms. The cold seems to be radiating out of the icy transfer himself. He almost felt the same chill as he did from the voice just by standing in the same room as Toushiro.

Apparently, the professors had also felt the impatience rolling off the impatient, white-haired transfer.

Dumbledore gave Toushiro a searching gaze before giving Harry the same gaze. Harry felt as though he was being x-rayed by those twinkling, light-blue eyes.

"Innocent until proven guilty," Dumbledore announced after a long moment of silence. Harry saw Toushiro roll his eyes at the statement. He didn't know what to make of it.

Snape looked furious. So did Filch.

"My cat has been Petrified!" he almost yelled, eyes popping. "I want to see some _punishment!_"

"We will be able to cure her, Argus." Dumbledore said patiently, the direct opposite of what Toushiro appeared to be, however. "Professor Sprout had recently managed to procure Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full-size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart chirped in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep—"

"Excuse me," said Snape icily. "But I believe I am the Potions Master in this school."

There was a very awkward pause.

"You may go." Dumbledore said to Harry, Ron and Hermione. Then he turned to Toushiro—gave his impatient tapping foot an extra glance—and nodded at him. "You too, Mr. Hitsugaya."

Harry watched as Toushiro walked—without making the slightest sound despite his speed—away into the dark corridors without another glance backwards. Soon, his shock of white hair has disappeared into the darkness.

They themselves turned into an empty classroom as soon as they were a floor up from Lockhart's office. Harry squinted at his friends' darkened faces.

"D'you think I should tell the Professors about the voices I heard?"

"No," Ron said without hesitation. "Hearing voices no one else can isn't a good sign even in the wizarding world."

"You do believe me…don't you?"

"Of course!" Hermione and Ron said together quickly. Harry nodded.

There was a pause before Ron broke the silence.

"Don't you think that midget was very suspicious?" Harry nodded in agreement, he didn't like the way he felt around the transfer at all. Hermione frowned.

"You can't just blame him…" Hermione said slowly. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Now you are protecting that midget as well?"

"But Hermione is right, Ron." Harry said as a second thought. "We can't just blame him either; he might be like us, wrong place wrong time."

Ron looked betrayed that both his friends were backing up the transfer.

"But that still doesn't rule out the fact that he's a suspect!"

Else where

"Ah choo!" Toushiro sneezed loudly. Hm, must be the dust…

**I shall end this chapter here! Hoped you enjoyed it! **

**Updates for this story might come slower since I'm starting on a second story *cheers* Please do check it out if you want! See ya guys in da next chappie!**

**Shiro-chan: When is this going to end? I'm getting impatient!**

**Me: Hold on and be a good boy, Shiro-chan! The actions' just starting~!**

**Shiro-chan: *Draws Hyourinmaru yet again* HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU, DON'T. CALL. ME. SHIRO-CHAN!**

**Me: AHHHH!**

**Please review! (And make me happy!)**

**Arigato!**


	14. The Serial Killer

**A/N: Ahhhhh! I'm so sorry that I didn't update for so long! I swear that school is driving me mental (wait, didn't I established that I was already mental a few years back?)! Thanks a million for waiting patiently for this chapter! **

**So without further ado, here comes the long-awaited Chapter 14 of Shiro-chan's adventure! Enjoy!**

**Answer to reviews:**

**yamihime misa-chan: No worries! I know enough Spanish to (partially) understand that (Though I used Google translate to confirm…)!**

**Midnayuki: Oh my! You are the first person to acknowledge that! Now I feel very accomplished *Smiles smugly, insert sparkling background*! **

**Disclaimer: I DONOT own Bleach or Harry Potter.**

_Ron looked betrayed that both his friends were backing up the transfer._

"_But that still doesn't rule out the fact that he's a suspect!"_

_Else where_

"_Ah choo!" Toushiro sneezed loudly. Hm, must be the dust…_

For the next few days, Hogwarts was filled with chatters about the incident. There wasn't anywhere you wouldn't hear the words 'Chamber of Secrets' mentioned in every single conversation.

"Have you tried the newest flavor of Mr. Goodpump's Stretchable Pumpkin Jelly?"

"Oh yes! I'm sure the Chamber is a room filled with them! They are so delicious! I'm sure that Slytherin's heir didn't want the muggle-borns to steal his collection of those!"

Twitch.

"—no, I think I need the toilet. Right now."

"I think the Chamber is a huge luxurious toilet. I mean, if you are Slytherin's heir, you gotta be rich, right?"

…Is that even relevant to the previous sentence? Toushiro was having his patience tested to its limit. Could he go anywhere without hearing the word 'Chamber' or is that too much to ask?

What's more was hearing his name and that Potter kid's in the same sentence, on the above-mentioned topic.

"—ey, know that white-haired Japanese kid? Think he was the one who opened the Chamber?"

"Yeah…did you see him? He was going to _touch_ that damned cat's body when we caught him. He had that creepy expression on too."

"What about Harry Potter? He was there too."

"I think the Japanese kid. He's a jinx. It started when he _transferred _in."

"Well, _I _think that they _both_ did. They are probably _scheming together_ on how to rid the school of muggle-borns. They are both snotty enough for that."

So much for not attracting too much attention; now he was the _center_ of attraction. Toushiro gritted his teeth and tried his very best not to give in to his temper.

If the Captain-Commander had not read about the incident involving the mysterious chamber, and his mission had not been altered, he would have given the entire school population a permanent frostbite.

Soul Society just has to deal with the loss of a valuable observation sample.

But nooo, his first priority under any kind of circumstance was to protect the souls in the castle. Great, his 'kill, pat off the dust on his sleeve and go' option had just been striked-through.

The white-haired taicho sighed heavily as he walked on towards his History of Magic, trying his best to tune-out the loud voices of the students. He seriously needed an eight-hour long meditation session to get rid of the migraine he could feel creeping up on him.

He could feel three pairs of eyes following him as he sat down at his desk. Turning his cold teal orbs in their direction, the white-haired youth pinpointed the source of the scrutinizing gazes.

Harry's POV

Hitsugaya suddenly turned towards them; his odd, teal-colored eyes bore into theirs. They had to look away immediately from the hard glare.

Those teal orbs looked even scarier today. It must have been his imagination when his saw them glow and his eyes playing tricks on him when he saw a faint—almost invisible—bluish-white aura surrounding the transfer, right?

Harry was getting more suspicious of Hitsugaya by the second. Questions kept themselves known by constantly reappearing in his head.

Why was Hitsugaya at the scene? Was it by pure coincidence or was he really the culprit? Why did he looked like he was about to touch the Mrs. Norris? Was he just curious or had he been hanging it up and was caught in the act? Who _exactly is _he? A student or a blood-thirsty murderer?

Harry was saved from those pounding questions by the least-expected person: Professor Binns. Yup, he definitely could use some forty-winks.

However, today wasn't his sleeping-in-class days. Something interesting just had to happen when he almost closed his eyes.

Hermione and Hitsugaya both raised their hands at the same time, completely in synch.

Harry perked up instantly. This had never happened in Professor Binns' class; no one _ever _raised their hand or asks a question. What's more was there were two hands in the air.

Harry watched curiously as Hitsugaya put down his hand with a weird expression on his face. Was that…relief?

Apparently, Professor Binns was just as amazed as Harry was.

"Yes? Miss—er—"

"Granger, Professor, I was wondering if you could tell us more about the Chamber of Secrets." Hermione asked in a clear voice.

Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth dangling wide open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Lavender Brown's head came off her arms and Neville Longbottom's elbow slipped off his desk.

Professor Binns blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts, Miss Ginger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk snapping and continued on with his incredibly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention 1289.

"In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers—"

"Don't all legends have a basis in facts, Professor Binns?" all eyes turned towards the source of that almost bored-sounding voice that had interrupted Professor Binns. The speaker was none other than the white-haired transfer, Hitsugaya Toushiro.

His head was supported by his hand and his teal-colored eyes were on the brink of closing. The one lock of white hair dangling in front of his face effectively concealed his left eye. Overall, Hitsugaya looked as if he was going to fall asleep any second.

Hermione didn't hesitate longer than three seconds to stop gawking at Hitsugaya and nod frantically in agreement.

Professor Binns was looking at Hitsugaya with such amazement, Harry was sure that no student had interrupted him before, alive or dead.

"Well, I suppose one could argue on that point. But this legend that you speak of is such a _sensational_, even _ludicrous_ tale—"

By now, the whole class was hanging on to Professor Binns' every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his—though with the exception of one. Harry could tell that the old ghost was completely thrown by such an unusual show of enthusiasm.

"Oh very well," he said slowly. "Let me see…the Chamber of Secrets…"

"You all know that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago—the precise date was uncertain—by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

Toushiro's POV

Toushiro sat up in interest. This could be a very good opportunity to learn more about this school. To see how they had escaped Soul Society's detectors and why did they appear on their radars only now, after more than a thousand years.

The old spirit continued on with his tale.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated."

The long speech he made basically meant that Slytherin felt that only children from pure wizarding families should be educated and how he left the school after building a super-secret base that only his heir would be able to open. And his heir was supposed to unleash the horrors within Slytherin had concealed in the Chamber. Which happened to be a kind of monster that only Slytherin's heir could control.

When someone else in the class asked what kind of monster that was in the chambers, Professor Binns threw a very out-of-character fit to stop the various questions about the Chamber thrown at him.

Toushiro rolled his eyes when the class went back on course. If he hadn't known better, he would have said that Professor Binns was just shy.

Maa, at least he knew what he was facing this time. Yippe-doo-da, just another mysterious monster to look out for. The white-haired Shinigami was less than thrilled.

Now, all that was left for him to do is to search for the entrance into that Chamber. Oh kami, who knows how long that's going to take?

Harry's POV

Harry was pretty happy to have escaped from the deathly boring class and the somehow gradually intimidating presence of the white-haired transfer.

As they shunted along the throng of people exiting their classes, they _somehow_ ran into Colin Creevey. Harry was _sure_ that the kid had a Harry-radar on him _somewhere_.

"Hiya, Harry!"

"Hullo, Colin." It was almost an automatic response.

"Harry—Harry—a boy in my class has been saying you're—"

But Colin was so small he couldn't fight against the tidal wave of people washing him away into the Great Hall. Harry heard a faint 'See you, Harry!" before Colin disappeared entirely from view.

As he watched Colin disappear, a shock of white-hair, however, stood out from the rest of the sea of black.

Hitsugaya stood in the hall-way, standing by the side just like them. He seems to be waiting for the crowd to thin out too. Hitsugaya frowned, pale eyelids shut tightly over his teal orbs, and pale fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked pretty annoyed.

He seemed to have sensed Harry's eyes on him and immediately, Harry found Hitsugaya staring straight at him with emotionless eyes. It was so intimidating that he just had to turn away.

From the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw the transfer smirk. But when he tried to look back again, the white-haired boy was already walking away.

"What was a boy in his class saying about you?" Hermione wondered out loud, pulling Harry's attention from Hitsugaya.

"That I'm the heir of Slytherin, I expect." Harry mumbled. His stomach dropped a few inches or so as he suddenly remembered how Justin Finch-Fletchley had ran away from him a few days back.

Soon, the throng of people thinned and they ascended the staircase without difficulty.

"D'you believe that there really was a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I don't know," she said frowning. "Dumbledore couldn't find a cure for Mrs. Norris so that makes me think that what ever attack her might not be—well—human."

As she spoke, they arrived at the very corridor where Mrs. Norris was attacked. It was entirely empty, not even Filch was there.

They looked at each other.

"Can't hurt to look around." Harry dropped to his hands and knees, crawling across the ground to search for clues.

"Scorch marks!" he exclaimed. "Here—there—and here—"

"Come and look at this!" Hermione cried. "This is funny…"

Harry walked over to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were apparently fighting to get out through a small crack.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?"

"No," Harry stated. "Have you, Ron? Ron?"

Harry looked over his shoulder to see Ron standing at the furthest most corner from them and looking everywhere but the spiders.

"You…you can't be..._scared..._of spiders… right?" Hermione asked, her expression tells Harry that she is trying very hard to contain her giggles.

"No! I'm not _afraid_ of them! I'm just—just—I just don't _like _them! There's a difference between those two, alright?" Ron protested, eyes still diverted.

"Sure, sure." Hermione agreed, giggling.

That night, the three of them chose seats as far as possible from the rest of the Gryffindors, quietly discussing their plans.

"Who could it be, though?" Hermione asked quietly, most likely to herself. Ron answered it anyway.

"Two choices, first that freaky white-haired midget, second, the blonde scum."

"Ron, if you are going to talk in nicknames or codes or what ever it was that you just said, please keep in mind that we are not psychics and cannot read your mind. And mind your language too, will you?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

Ron grumbled.

"I thought I was being clear…fine, fine, Hitsugaya and Malfoy! Fair enough for you?" Ron hurriedly corrected himself after receiving death glares from Hermione.

Hermione's expression softened. She looked almost reluctant.

"I still don't think that Hitsugaya would be a suspect… he doesn't even know who Harry was when we met him!"

"Maybe his parents suddenly decided that he was ready to become the serial killer his ancestor wanted him to be?" Ron asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Hermione flushed a faint pink, her lips set in a tight line.

"Don't just accuse Hitsugaya like that!" Hermione sounded very offended. Invisible electric currents crackled in the air between the two of them as they glared at each other.

Harry sensing the soon-to-come eardrums-destroyer, hurriedly changed the subject in hopes of getting both of them to ease up.

"Malfoy might be possible; his family had all been in Slytherin. They could easily be Slytherin's descendents. They are evil enough as well, a much better option than Hitsugaya." It's not that Harry was covering for the white-haired midget—he's just as suspicious as Malfoy.

Ever since they caught him at the accident scene, the Japanese transfer had only been seen during classes. He seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth the rest of the time. Not even during lunch and dinner could he spot the obvious tiny—come on, you've got to admit Hitsugaya was _nothing_ _but_ the size of a pea—figure of the boy.

Sometimes, when Harry woke up in the middle of the night, even though the scarlet velvet curtains were drawn, he could just _tell_ that it was empty. It was just too creepy.

"Yeah! That's exactly what I was thinking, mate! They could have passed down the key to the Chamber for generations! Father to son, father to son, father to son!" Ron agreed enthusiastically.

"Well I suppose it's possible…" Hermione looked more comfortable as the topic shifted away from Hitsugaya. "Then we should start our investigation with Malfoy first."

"But how?" Harry asked. "We can't just demand it from him."

In his head, Harry had a very interesting image of him wearing black suits and dark glasses, a smoking cigarette in between his lips, holding a gun and pointing it under Malfoy's nose just like the gangster television show Dudley always watched.

However, when he tried to replace Malfoy's face with Hitsugaya's face, it somehow ended up with Hitsugaya sitting cross-legged on top of his bloodied and mangled body, calmly cleaning a very long and blood-stained Japanese-styled sword.

Paling, he quickly shook the horrible image from his mind.

"There might be a way," Hermione said slowly, dropping her voice further, as if afraid that someone might overhear. "Of course, it would be difficult. And very dangerous, very very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect—"

"If in a few years or so, you feel like explaining, we are all ears." Ron said sarcastically.

"All right," Hermione sent a glare Ron's way. "We will take Harry's idea—doing it subtly of course—go inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it is us."

Harry blinked. The gun-in-Malfoy's-face image popped back into his mind.

"But that's impossible," Harry said, how could Malfoy not recognize his sworn enemy? Ron laughed, said something incomprehensible. Harry vaguely caught the words 'Hermione' and 'sprouted crap'.

"No, it's not," Hermione said indignantly. "All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion."

"What's that?" Harry and Ron asked at the same time.

"Snape mentioned it in class several lessons ago—"

"You know we don't listen…" Ron muttered.

"It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could change into three Slytherins. No one would know that it was actually us. Malfoy would probably tell us everything. If it really was him, he'd be boasting about it in the common room right now, if only we could hear him."

Their common room was already empty except for the three of them so Hermione's excited voice sounded exceptionally loud.

"It sounds very dodgy, this Polyjuice stuff." Ron frowned. "What if we're stuck looking like the three Slytherins forever?"

"It wears off after a while," Hermione waved her hand, dismissing Ron's question like an irritating fly. "But getting hold of the recipe would be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called _Moste Potente Potions_ and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."

Harry sighed. The only way a student could visit the Restricted Section is by presenting a signed permission note from a professor. The teacher must be really thick to—

However, his thoughts were interrupted when their portrait hole opened and a certain very tired-looking white-haired boy stepped into the room.

The newcomer froze. Teal orbs met the three pairs of shocked eyes all directed at him.

Harry took in the boy's position: feet apart, a pale, thin arm clutched the other limp one.

And fresh red blood was trickling down the pale fingers in thin streams, dripping onto the floor, creating a small pool of scarlet liquid at his feet.

Without another minute's hesitation, Hitsugaya Toushiro turned and exited the common room faster than they could blink.

**Another cliffy! How would the Golden Trio react to that? Haha! Hope no one wants to kill me for leaving it at that! *Laughs nervously and looks around for assassins***

**Anyway, see ya guys in the next chappie! Hope it would come out soon…**

**Shiro-chan: BAKA MONO! Why the heck am I suddenly injured?**

**Me: *Shrug* Dunno.**

**Shiro-chan: Can't I have a peaceful day for once?**

**Me: *Smiles cheerfully* Nope!**

**Shiro-chan: …Soten ni zase…**

**Me: Eep!**

**Shiro-chan: …HYOURINMARU!**

**Me: AHHHHHH!**

**Please review! (And I would be inspired to write faster!)**

**Arigato!**


	15. The Stone Replica

**A/N: Yay! I'm back~! I had literally dug myself a hole and cannonball-ed into it in the previous chapter (T^T) I got stuck again for—my maths sucks—maybe a month? So sorry for the delay! Hontoni gomenasai! **

**Thank you guys for reviewing! I was reading them and racking my brains even more to find a way out! Special thanks to ****Dragons-Fangs for your cookie!**

**So here comes Chapter fifteen of Shiro-chan's Great Britain adventure! Thank you once again for the wait!**

**Shiro-chan: This chapter's disclaimer shall be done by Potter.**

**Harry: Um, hello.**

**Shiro-chan; I said do the disclaimer, not introduce yourself!**

**Harry: Oh, um, ahem. *Opens mouth to speak***

**Dumbledore: *Pushes harry aside* Cebad2710 does not own Bleach nor Harry Potter~!**

**Harry: Hey! That's my line!**

_Harry took in the boy's position: feet apart, a pale, thin arm clutched the other limp one._

_And fresh red blood was trickling down the pale fingers in thin streams, dripping onto the floor, creating a small pool of scarlet liquid at his feet. _

_Without another minute's hesitation, Hitsugaya Toushiro turned and exited the common room faster than they could blink._

Toushiro's POV

_Kuso! _The white-haired youth cursed. Out of all the people he could run into, he just have to be _lucky_ enough to run into those three! Besides, what the heck are they doing awake at this hour? It's almost twelve! The last time he checked, children their age should be snoring away like thunder in their beds!

He clenched his teeth as another stinging ran up his arm. _Oh, kami! When is it going to stop?_

"Hey! Stop!" he heard the Potter boy call after him. From the heavy footsteps that are hurrying over to him, he could safely assume that they are running after him.

Seriously, they need to work on their subtlety, half the world would know that they are coming with the noise they are making.

Harry's POV

"Hey, stop!" Harry called after the white-haired boy in front. The moment they saw the bleeding transfer exit the common room, they didn't need words to know that they were thinking the same thing.

All three of them had to run to keep up with the incredible pace Hitsugaya was _walking_ at. Harry could only imagine Hitsugaya's speed when he really started _running_.

The white-haired boy turned his head slightly at Harry's voice before he just sprinted forward, leaving them to be only able to watch him disappear into the dark hallways, not having the ability to catch up with him.

Harry bent forward, hands on his knees and panting heavily, as if he just ran a five miles marathon. Only then did he realize how fast he was pushing his legs to run at. Ron and Hermione weren't any better off.

"See—Hermione? What did I tell you?" Ron asked in between pants. With a huff, he flopped down onto the floor, wiping his sweaty face with his sleeve. "Now tell me that midget isn't suspicious!"

"Well," Hermione looked like she was having trouble trying to speak for the transfer. "He might have just…fell asleep in a tree and…and cut his arm when he fell off it!"

Harry and Ron both looked at her as if she just told them that she thinks that Lockhart's curlers would make greater wizards than Dumbledore.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, exasperated. "How can you say that when he came in with a bloody arm?" Ron paused. "As in a bloody-arm. I mean, a bloody arm and not a bloody arm…AH! _Anyway!_ I meant a bleeding arm!" Ron corrected himself before either of them could get the wrong picture.

"And look at the time! He shouldn't even be outside the common room! Everything is suspicious about that weirdo!" Harry couldn't help but agree with Ron. Everything Hitsugaya did was so suspicious, now that he thought about it.

Why did he transfer into Hogwarts when—according to Hermione—no one had ever done so in nearly a century? Why did he just have to be in the same house as him, the same room as him? Was it all planned to get close to him? Was he working for Voldermort just like how Quirrell did last year?

A glint outside the window he was now standing in front of caught his eye. He squinted to see make out the shapes in the dark grounds. When his eyes got used to the darkness, what he saw puzzled him.

"Look at this…" he waved his two friends over.

"What is it?" Ron asked as he looked down at the dark grounds. His eyes widened when he made out the shapes. "Blimey!"

The gentle moonlight shone onto the grounds below, illuminating it. The grounds were covered in what appeared to be a thin layer of glittering ice. A small tree nearby had its leaves half-covered in melting ice. And scattered everywhere were irregular-sized chunks of ice.

The biggest piece was a piece right next to the half-frozen tree. When he looked closer; it turned out to be a bird encased in the transparent ice, frozen in its action of flapping it wings.

It looked as if a blizzard had just swept by the place. With the moonlight shining onto the scene, Harry has to admit that if he had seen this under different kinds of condition, it was quite beautiful.

"Should we tell Dumbledore?" Hermione sounded unsure.

Harry took another long look at the scene below; it might just have been a spell mess-up by some of the sixth years or something. But considering the fact that the Japanese transfer came in with wounds at the same time they discovered someone had been practicing ice-sculpturing with the school backyard, it did look suspicious from every angle.

"First thing tomorrow." Harry answered, be-spectacled emeralds fixed on the melting ice below.

Toushiro's POV

Toushiro tightened his grip on his arm; the action brought a new round of stinging pain to his consciousness. The edges of his vision blurred before coming back into focus again.

He shook his head, it helped a little.

Stumbling over a protruding tree root, the white-haired youth gripped a near-by branch to steady himself. The feeling in his legs was already slowly leaving him. Leaning heavily against the thick tree trunk beside him, he slid down to the slightly damp forest floor.

With a little effort, Toushiro ripped apart his robe's sleeve.

The flesh of his upper arm was literally split open, the little bit of white showing must have been the bone. A thick trail of dried blood ran from the exposed flesh all the way down to his pale fingertips. The skin around the gash itself was a sickly yellow-ish green—and the sickly color was steadily spreading to the areas around it.

Toushiro gritted his teeth and cursed his carelessness.

He hadn't even noticed a low level Hollow slip pass the school's boundaries until it was dangerously close to the school buildings. He had even allowed the Hollow to land a claw on him.

He shut his eyes and hissed as the venom crept across his arm. The pain was getting worse, so much more than just a few minutes ago.

This can't go on. The disgusting poison has to go. Toushiro clenched his jaw as he eyed the green skin of his arm.

It's not like he didn't know how to perform the healing kido for this kind of poison. Though it isn't his specialty—and it takes a lot of his reiatsu to perform it—he still knew the basics.

Moreover, his body—and gigai—is trained—designed—to overcome such degree of poisoning and it will recover entirely from this in a few weeks' time anyway. There really wasn't a need to care about it at all.

However, Toushiro was worried about his cover. He was bound to be too weak to go anywhere for another day or two. What would happen when the wizards discovered that their prime suspect had disappeared? Wouldn't that just attract more attention than he already did?

Scrunching up his white eyebrows, Toushiro raised his uninjured arm; his red palm hovered just a little above his wound.

He is quite weak now; the poison was draining his energy with every second he dragged on. It would be quite risky to use some more of that energy to perform a healing.

The white-haired Shinigami is very well aware that his decreasing energy meant decreasing control over his still-not-quite-drained-reiatsu. That would be a huge disaster if he loses control of it.

A reassuring rumble in the back of his head erased the rest of the remaining doubt.

Though it was just a sound, Toushiro didn't need words to know that he could put all his trust in his companion.

A pale green glow surrounded his palm. This green was different from the sickly color around his wound. It was a soft, light green; a warm green fire burning away the pain and leaving blissful numbness in its wake.

Toushiro's small hands fell to his side. The wound was already gone, only a thin puckered line on his pale skin ever hinted that it had once existed. Smiling grimly once to himself, Toushiro closed his tired teal orbs.

Harry's POV

Harry whipped open the heavy scarlet curtains of the first bed from the window, his curiosity at its peak—and still rising.

He was greeted with a perfectly empty bed, the blanket folded neatly and a clean set of uniform—ironed—at the foot of the bed, waiting to be worn.

Ron stood by his side, staring at the empty bed that looked as if it hadn't been slept in for weeks, no, _months_. Both looked at each other and the same thoughts ran through their minds.

First thing today.

They ran down the stairs, skipping two in a stride. Harry felt his heart sped faster as he was hit with a wave of unexplained nervousness. Hermione was waiting for them beside the fireplace when they came down, a huge stack of books in her arms.

"Come on, both of you. We are going to look for Professor McGonagall." She adjusted the books in her arms and almost ran out the portrait hole. Harry and Ron hurried over to join her.

They found Professor McGonagall at the Gryffindor table quite easily. Apparently, one of the student's rabbit-turned-slippers had somehow reverted back and ate all of Hagrid's Beetle-Eating Lettuce.

"Um, Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked, almost crashing into the witch when she turned around suddenly.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Was it just him or did Professor McGonagall's voice sound softer than usual?

"We were wondering if we could see Professor Dumbledore now. We…have something important to tell him."

Professor McGonagall hesitated. She looked over to the two anxious faces behind Harry's. Her lips were a thin line as she nodded stiffly.

"Very well, follow me."

They followed Professor McGonagall around several bends before they turned into a familiar corridor. Hermione asked in confusion from beside Ron.

"But…Professor McGonagall, isn't this leading to the Infirmary?" Ron nodded vigorously in agreement while Harry just stared at the back of Professor McGonagall's head.

The witch sighed and answered, "Dumbledore is in there now." She came to a halt in front of the white door to the Infirmary. Knocking once and not waiting for an answer, she opened the door.

Standing in the middle of the aisle between rows and rows of white bed, was the aged Headmaster.

Dressed in sky blue robes and his usual pointy hat on top of his white hair, Dumbledore turned around to face them. His blue eyes twinkled behind the half-moon glasses.

"If it isn't dear Harry." Dumbledore smiled, though it looked a little forced. "Hope you don't mind the temperature in this little room! Minerva, you may go now." He added. Professor McGonagall nodded and left.

Now that he mentioned it, Harry realized that the temperature was indeed much cooler than the rest of the castle. In fact, his breath is actually coming out in a faint cloud.

He told himself to put that mystery aside for him to solve on another day. He came here for a much more important issue than new air-conditioning systems in the Infirmary.

Harry described what they had seen of the frozen grounds and the suspicious actions of the white-haired transfer. Hermione and Ron occasionally cut in to add in more details of what Harry may have missed out. Dumbledore nodded at some points, all the while with that smile plastered on his wrinkled face.

"Please, Professor, there really is something strange about Hitsugaya! We didn't even see him this morning!" Harry's hands waved around in his anxiety to make his point known.

"Come here, Harry, Ron and Hermione." Dumbledore said simply, his expression not changing one bit. He turned around and strolled over to one of the occupied beds. It seems like Madam Pomfrey had found a use for her curtains in blocking the bed's occupant from view.

"Professor?" Harry asked as he hesitantly followed the old wizard. He wasn't here to visit someone he had never known! He shared a look with Hermione and Ron—who shrugged—and walked towards the bed slowly.

As he moved closer, he realized that his breath was coming out in more opaque clouds. The chill in the air grew and Harry could feel the hairs on his arms rising. He rubbed his arms in hopes of warming them.

Dumbledore waited patiently by the curtains. When they were near enough, he pushed back the curtains to reveal the person lying on the bed.

Hermione stifled a gasp.

Lying on the bed with his teal orbs partially open was the white-haired transfer. It was most unsettling to see the usually cold teal eyes completely lifeless and dull.

Hitsugaya's skin was paler than usual and even appeared grey in some areas. Somehow, his unmoving posture made him look like a stone replica of himself. Crafted by a craftsman who never used much colors.

"Oh no…this can't be…" Hermione murmured, her voice somehow came out as a squeak. Her eyes watered up, tears just on the edge of pouring.

Ron had an awkward expression as he placed an arm around Hermione's shoulders in an effort to comfort her. He himself was doing a horrible job at hiding his surprise and horror.

Harry just stared at the seemingly dead body of Hitsugaya. _How could this be…? When I just suspected him…he was dead? Killed…?_

"Don't panic just yet," Dumbledore whispered, almost to himself. "He wasn't confirmed to be Petrified. Though all the evidences stated otherwise, I don't believe that was the case. A major poisoning by a venom we had never heard of, maybe, but not Petrified or killed."

"What do you mean…Professor?" Hermione asked hurriedly.

Dumbledore just smiled stiffly again.

"That would be a question for us teachers to ponder on now, Miss Granger. I hope you won't spread the news about Mr. Hitsugaya's condition, I don't want any more commotion in the school than there already was."

Harry nodded slowly at that. He wasn't sure if he had the voice to voice out his understanding. He knew it would be a huge shake to the school if this leaks out.

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled again behind his glasses and he clasped his hands together, "You three should hurry along now, you might still be in time for bacon!"

Dumbledore's POV

Dumbledore sighed as the three children left the Infirmary. He turned back to the frozen body of the Japanese child.

First was the appearance of this familiar child, and now came the familiar attacks. Was this a sign of _that _incident? With the appearance of this child, will there be a repeat of _it_?

History really loves to go around in cycles doesn't it?

**I know I'm evil! But cliffhangers seems to be a favorite of mine lately XD**

**Hope this chapter did not disappoint anyone! So stay tuned for what happens next!**

**See ya guys in the next chapter!**

**Shiro-chan: Kisama! What the hell happened to me?**

**Me: *Pulls out crystal ball out of nowhere* Hmm…I don't know.**

**Shiro-chan: …Bankai!**

**Me: Oh god! This has never happened before!**

**Shiro-chan: DAIGUREN HYOURINAMARU!**

**Me: *Silence…..***_** Silenced.**_

**Please review! (And I will come back from wherever I am now to continue writing!)**

**Arigato!**


	16. The Fanged Bludger

**A/N: How ya doin' minna-san! Yay! I'm finally back! Missed me? *Dodges dirty boot* …I'll take that as a no…**

**Anywayyyys, I had a **_**really**_** bad time writing this chapter. First, I got a major block, then I had my block tests which are basically exams (not helping, really). Next, I got hooked onto the other stories and neglected my own precious ones. Finally, I invited a Trojan Horse into my computer and had a cup of tea with it while it schemed to destroy my laptop (Idiotic, I know). **

**So I'm terribly sorry for the delay of…*looks at calendar and fails at counting backwards*…a couple of months. **_**Don't kill me.**_

**Thank you to all those who reviewed, you have no idea how they made my day. Special thanks to ****Dragons-Fangs for your skittles (I didn't fall off the rainbow :D)!**

**Answer to reviews:**

**KrC: That, would be an issue addressed later in the story when all the mysteries are solved XD I'm aware of that and most certainly isn't a mistake XD!**

**Well, I shall not delay the story anymore by writing a chunky author's note like what I'm doing now. Let's begin Chapter sixteen of Shiro-chan's adventure in Great Britain! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I DONOT own Bleach or Harry Potter.**

_Dumbledore sighed as the three children left the Infirmary. He turned back to the frozen body of the Japanese child._

_First was the appearance of this familiar child, and now came the familiar attacks. Was this a sign of _that_ incident? With the appearance of this child, will there be a repeat of _it_?_

_History really loves to go around in cycles doesn't it? _

"Hey—you know that white-haired kid? Where do you think he's gone?"

"Blimey, do you think he was attacked?"

"Maybe…Harry thought that the midget was competing for fame and wanted him out of the equation?"

"Possible—shush! Here he comes—"

By the time it was lunch, there was already a rumor going around about the disappearance of the Japanese student.

"Harry, this is getting more serious by the second. We can't just drag anymore! Hitsugaya was_ attacked_! We _have_ to start on Malfoy, or more people are going to get hurt!" Hermione persuaded the suddenly stubborn Harry, glancing uneasily around at the thousands of unfriendly gazes sent their way. The conversation with Dumbledore the day before still fresh in their heads.

Harry frowned, "I know!" he hissed at the bushy-haired girl. "It's just that this isn't going anywhere…" Harry muttered, his brow furrowing more as they continued on their way to their Defense Against Dark Arts class. He wasn't exactly doing a great job at ignoring the looks himself.

Harry was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the icy-cold, intimidating tiny-as-hell, transfer student was attacked and so quickly thrown onto the bleachers the moment he started to suspect him.

But then again, Harry didn't actually know about the mysterious transfer's ancestry. He could have been purely muggle-born for all he know.

Harry wanted the answers even more now, but the incident with Hitsugaya was making him hesitate. He didn't want to think that this was a trap and the three of them were stepping right into it like dumb little bunnies.

"This had better work, Hermione. I wouldn't want to pass my first Quidditch match of the season as a stone statue—or worst, a dead corpse—in the Infirmary."

**~ Soten ni Zase ~**

Once Lockhart dismissed them all from an immensely torturous lesson—with Harry acting as the werewolf Lockhart oh-so-bravely defeated—the trio's plan sprung into action.

Waiting until the last of the students were gone, Hermione nodded to her two companions, gulped nervously, and approached the—charming—blonde wizard.

"Er—Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to—get this book from the library. Just for some background reading." She nervously held out a piece of paper, the thin sheet quivering slightly from her shaking hand. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it—I'm sure it would be of help to me for understanding what you said in _Gadding with Ghouls_ about slow-acting venoms—"

"Ah, _Gadding with Ghouls_!" Lockhart interrupted the moment he heard the title of his book. The rest was easy. He didn't even read the words on the note before scribbling an enormous loopy signature on the bottom.

That man was sure to have mush for brains. No room for thinking at all.

But what's a conversation with Lockhart without any mentioning of the name 'Harry' in it?

Being the infuriating person he is, Lockhart continued on to talk about him being a star Seeker—when it was kind of obvious that it was Harry's father who held the title at the time—and that Harry should start asking him for some tips if he wanted to be just like him.

At least they got what they wanted. Not too soon, the three of them were huddled around a thick, dusty book in the dark, cramped stall of their favorite bathroom. Moaning Mrytle was crying noisily in her stall, since they ignored her, she returned the favor.

Hermione flipped the pages, both boys not protesting about the speed she flipped through them. None of them wanted to lay their eyes for a second longer on the book's disgusting contents.

It didn't help that some of the pages seemed to be stuck together, forcing them to stop at several illustrations of a man turned inside out and a woman with multiple pairs of arms bubbling out of her head.

"Here it is," Hermione whispered excitedly as they finally got to a page headed _Polyjuice Potion_. It was—like all the other pages—decorated with rather detailed illustrations of people under the effects of the potion.

Many of them were halfway through transforming into another person; Harry just hoped that the artist's vivid imagination was what that lead to the intense look of pain on the people's faces.

"This has got to be the most complicated potions I had ever seen," Hermione muttered to most likely herself. "I don't know how to get even half of what is on the list.."

Ron scanned the list of ingredients as well, even though he didn't recognize any of the names. When he came to the last name on the list, he blanched. Even an idiot would know what that meant.

"A little something of whoever you want to change into?" Ron read aloud, his voice sharp. "I'm never drinking anything with Crabbe's toenails in it!" He cast a horrified and disgusted look at his bespectacled friend—who had another worry on his mind altogether.

"Well, you do realize that we'll have to steal right? Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed and knotgrass, those are easy enough, we can help ourselves in the students' supply cupboard. But shredded skin of the boomslang? That is definitely not there. What are we going to do? Steal from Snape's private stores? I don't think that would be a good idea at all.

Hermione shut the book with a loud snap that echoed in the wide bathroom.

"Look, if the two of you are going to chicken out, it is fine by me. I think that watching muggle-borns being targeted one by one is a far worse option than making a particularly hard potion. I'll return this book back to the library and forget all about our plan if that's what you—"

"Okay okay," Ron cut her off, hands raising in defeat. "We're not gonna back out! Just surprised that we're seeing a day where you are encouraging us to break the school rules."

"How long would it take for the potion to be done anyway?" Hermione, looking much happier, opened up the book again.

"Well, since fluxweed has got to be picked on a full moon, and the lacewings has got to be stewed for twenty-one days, I think it would be safe to say about a month. Provided that we can get all the ingredients, that is."

"A month?" Ron exclaimed. "Malfoy could have attacked half the school's population of muggle-borns by then!" after seeing Hermione's glare that would make Hitsugaya proud, he swiftly added, " but it's the only good plan we have, so full-steam ahead, I say!"

However, when Hermione was checking if the coast is clear for them to exit the bathroom, Ron muttered to Harry, "It would make life so much easier for us if you could just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow."

**~ Soten Ni Zase ~**

Loud, thunderous cheers erupted from all around as the team of seven, dressed in scarlet and gold of the Gryffindor house colors, stepped out into the pitch.

The Slytherins' boos and hisses were not unheard over the din of the Hufflepuffs' and Ravenclaws' cheering for the Gryffindor team. It was a three against one, but the Slytherins were not bothered by the numerical disadvantage they had.

The two team captains shook hands—sharing glares and gripping much harder than necessary—before turning back to their teams.

"On my whistle," Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, called over the noise. "Three…two…one!"

Another wave of cheers erupted as the fourteen players speed up toward the leaden sky. Harry flew up higher than any of them, squinting to spot the speck of gold that was his target.

"All right there, Scarhead?" Malfoy taunted, as he sped pass underneath Harry, as if to show off the speed of his broom.

Harry didn't have time to retort back as a heavy black Bludger came pelting towards him. He avoided it so narrowly that it ruffled his hair as it passed.

"Close one, Harry!" George grinned, streaking past him, club in hand, ready to knock the Bludger back towards a Slytherin.

Swinging his heavy club, George gave a powerful whack to the side of the Bludger.

The strangest thing happened the moment the club came into contact with the ball.

The Bludger _growled. _

"Wha—" Harry managed before the Bludger—which had split open in the middle to reveal sharp rows of _long_ fangs—made a U-turn and headed straight for Harry's head again.

George caught it again, but the Bludger, no, _the thing that looked like a Bludger_, opened its mouth wide and clamped its fangs on the wooden club. The club instantly broke into half, the top part dropping down onto the field below.

"That's the first time a Bludger broke my club!" George gasped as his eyes followed the top half of his club to the ground.

"And George Weasley's Beater club just got broken into two from the impact of hitting the Bludger! That's some tough Bludger! Now how is the—" Harry heard Lee Jordan comment over the microphone.

_What?_ Didn't they notice the Bludger growing freaking _fangs_? Not to mention that those pointy things are heading straight for his face?

He ducked down as the thing aimed for his skull once more, chomping down its nasty-looking teeth where his head had been just seconds before. _What's going on?_ Why didn't anybody notice that something weird is going on with the Bludger?

Meanwhile, the fanged-Bludger let out an irritated huff and started to grow. Emerald orbs widened behind his round glasses when the thing started growing clawed arms and feet, a body—with a gaping hole in the middle—appearing beneath the black ball with a sickening pop.

Thick, white, liquid-like substance started oozing out of the mouth and covering its—what Harry assumed—face.

The transformation took around half a minute. Harry's instincts screamed as loudly as it could in his ear to get as far away from the monster as possible—preferably on the other side of the globe—but his curiosity and fear kept him rooted—hovering—on the spot.

Before him, standing on thin air, was a monster. It was huge, around the size of a carriage, with the body of a brown crocodile-like animal. Heavy, amour-like plates covered it's back, the spikes lining its spine looked pretty sharp.

The gaping hole in its middle almost made Harry throw up, how could it survive with that hole big enough for Hagrid to squeeze through?

Its flat face was covered in the hardened white substance from before, leaving only holes for its eyes, mouth and two slits for a nose. Its beady eyes were white on black sclera, and staring at him in an animalistic glare.

Harry felt his blood run cold when he heard Lee Jordan on the microphone again.

"And on the far left side of the field, Harry Potter is having a stare-down with a bludger! What a strange bludger, first it breaks a club and next it's hovering in mid-air?"

_Can't they see the monster?_ Harry thought disbelievingly. He barely had time to dodge as the beast jumped towards him.

Finally snapping out of his stupor, Harry's survival instincts kicked in. he dodged every claw the monster launched at him, but only just barely. He clenched his teeth tight as he felt a sharp claw scrape his left arm.

He didn't dare look down at how bad the wound was, afraid that if he did, he would slow down.

It wasn't helping that the crowd still doesn't seem to realize that there was a monster chasing after him. In fact, the only person able to see the thing was himself.

The beast chased him all over the field, the boundaries for their chase only limited by the magical barrier to stop any stray player or ball from flying outside the field. Its speed was amazing, catching up to him easily every time he tried to outfly it. Harry seemed to be its sole target, never once did it actually divert its attention away from him.

The chase wore on, Harry was getting tired from the speed he was trying to maintain. The monster behind him didn't seem to be tiring, however.

A spot of gold flashed before his eyes and he faltered for a moment. _The Snitch!_ His hand flew out to grab it, but it slipped between his weak fingers. He cursed.

Then screamed as four rows of razor sharp fangs chomped down on his out-stretched arm. He screamed again when the thing flipped itself around horizontally in horrifyingly fast circles, his arm still clamped tightly between the monster's powerful jaws.

The pain shot up his arm and caused his mind to almost stop working. Black spots danced across his vision, the voices and screams of the crowd seem like whispers compared to his own. The burning pain only doubled each time he heard a crack when his bone was twisted.

He did the only thing his instincts told him to do: he turned with the thing, hoping to minimize the damage done to his arm.

It did surprise the monster when its prey turned along with it, its jaw went slack for a second. It was all Harry needed to pull his useless arm from its jaws. Without his broom between his legs, Harry felt his face rushing to greet the grass fifty feet below.

He closed his hazy eyes, shutting them tightly, a feeling of dread and fear creeping up his chest as he realized that he was going to die. He could hear the frantic beats of his heart beating against his ribcage. The pain in his arm wasn't exactly helping him die peacefully either.

"Oof!" Harry's eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he crashed into a pair of strong arms—the impact knocking the breath out of his arms and at least breaking a rib—and effectively, if not a little less comfortable than he preferred, breaking his fall.

Harry could feel himself losing altitude again, but it was much slower this time, nothing like the death drop he just experienced.

An angry, animalistic howl rang shrilly through the air as he was placed gently on the grass of the field. It was breaking his sensitive eardrums. Something cold and hard was pressed into the palm of his good hand, his weak fingers wrapped around it almost instinctively.

"Take care of that," a familiar cold and authoritative voice said softly by his ear.

Turning his head to fix his steadily blurring gaze on his savior, Harry only caught a blurry glimpse of white, black and a glint of silver before his savior leaped up into the air and disappeared.

The only thing that he felt vaguely familiar about his savior were those bright teal orbs that stared down coolly at him.

He couldn't do any more thinking before he was consumed by the pain, sinking down into a sea of darkness.

**I'm happy to finally finish this chapter that had me so troubled and dragged on for forever! Thank goodness! I won't make a promise as to when the next Chapter is coming out, my EOYs are coming soon and I'll be focusing on studying. But I'll definitely update ASAP!**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! See ya guys in da next chappie! Bai bai ~ ~**

**Me: Since Shiro-chan…*glances nervously at unmoving Shiro-chan* is currently not available, Harry shall end the chapter with me today!**

**Harry: …Did the production team put this chair in the freezer before? Its…FREEZING. *jumps up from chair***

**Me: *Leans in closely and pokes at the cushion* Huh. Seems like the cushion has froze over from the time when Shiro-chan was occupying this chair. **

**Harry: Wow, he must be really irritated with you every time he attends this corner. **

**Me: …No. where did you get that idea?**

**Please review! (I'll love ya!)**

**Arigato!**


	17. The Ghost

**A/N: Yes! I'm not dead! And I'm back with a new chapter! **

**Firstly I want to apologize to some people that have PM-ed me asking when I was going to update this story, I know I said 'in a few days' but those 'few days' turned out to be 3 months. I'm really sorry for keeping your hopes up! *Bows deeply* **

**A big thank you to all those who reviewed! I really **_**really**_** appreciate them!**

**Answer to reviews:**

**MorganBanner: Yeah, it is his Gigai in the Infirmary, but if he is in it or not…you will have to wait and see I guess XD**

**So without further ado, I present to you the Sixteenth Chapter of Shiro-chan's adventure in Britain! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I DONOT own Bleach or Harry Potter.**

_The only thing that he felt vaguely familiar about his savior were those bright teal orbs that stared down coolly at him. _

_He couldn't do any more thinking before he was consumed by the pain, sinking down into a sea of darkness._

He heard voices. They sound so far away and so distorted, like he was underwater. He tried to feel his eyes, to force them to open and see what was going on, but it felt like his eyelids weigh more than five Dudleys.

Then the voices got clearer, steadily growing louder until they started to hurt his eardrums. He wanted to yell at the speakers that they are giving him a headache, but he couldn't get his mouth to move. A dull, throbbing pain slowly made itself known in his right arm and chest, reminding him of his horrifying experience.

_The monster! _With a jolt, his eyes opened.

Ron and Hermione's worried faces greeted him, Madam Pomfrey's face being the closest to his.

"He's alright." She said, straightening up. "Should have came to me immediately after the accident! Fixing such wounds are easily done within half an hour, but regrowing bones that will take so much longer and be so much more unpleasant!"

"Regrowing bones?" Harry repeated, a sickening feeling started bubbling in his stomach. "What happened?" he didn't dare to look at his useless arm, afraid that he had lost his arm in that battle with the monster.

"Lockhart tried to fix your arm, mate, and ended up making your bones vanish." Ron answered, irritation clear on his features. Hermione immediately jumped to her idol's defense.

"Everyone's bound to make mistakes once in a while! You shouldn't be hard on Professor Lockhart just because he made a mistake!" Hermione knew that her stand was weak but she stubbornly stood by it. Ron rolled his eyes and made a face.

Harry risked a glance at his arm, grimacing when he saw it.

Poking out of his sleeve was something more similar to a torn-up skin-colored rubber glove than an arm. It was floppy and the various wounds exposed his red flesh. The scary thing was, you could look through those wounds, and see what was on the other side. Stick a finger into them and you would see it poking out on the other end.

He looked away pointedly.

"Drink this," Madam Pomfrey handed him a cup with a bubbling clear liquid. "It'll help to regrow those bones in your arm."

Harry took the cup gingerly, sniffing and almost gagging at the awful thing. After quickly running through the pros and cons of having a useless arm hanging from his sleeve in his head, he decided that the cons weighed over the pros and forced the foul thing down his throat.

It felt like hot lava was being poured down his gullet. He barely managed not to jump out of bed and gulp down a barrel of water.

"Anyways, that was some game you had, Harry!" Ron burst out excitedly, eye shining. "You had this incredible stare-down with the Bludger, then the Bludger came at you and just crashed into you so many times that you were knocked off your broom! "

" We were so worried when you fell off that broom; we thought you were going to die! Then the most amazing thing happened! There was this flash of black and white and you just stopped falling in midair and started going down slowly!"

Ron paused to take an excited breath.

"When you landed, the Snitch flew so fast—that it was a blur—into your hand like you Summoned it! Oh tell me Harry! Why have you never mentioned to us that you can fly and Summon Snitches?"

"I—Wha—He—Tha—" Harry choked on his words, hardly believing what he was hearing. "CAN'T YOU SEE THAT THAT BLOODY BLUDGER TURNED INTO A MONSTER?" he finally managed to yell.

Both of his friends stared at him with the same dumbfounded expression. Hermione's was laced with concern. All three of them ignored Madam Pomfrey's equally loud yell for them to lower their volume so they would not disturb the other patients.

"Harry? Are you okay? Didn't hit your head when you fell did you?" she asked concernedly. That just fuelled Harry's disbelief and sense of betrayal.

"OF COURSE I'M ALRIGHT! I'VE THIS BONELESS ARM RIDDLED WITH HOLES TO PROVE THAT THE _THING_ BIT THROUGH IT! IF IT WEREN'T FOR—" Harry's voice failed him in the middle of his sentence when realization hit him. Hard.

He would have died, if not…if not for _Hitsugaya_ catching him in midair. That would be impossible now, wouldn't it? _Hitsugaya_ is still _unconscious_ and suffering from a _potent venom_, isn't he? It couldn't have been _Hitsugaya_ that saved him during the Quidditch match, right?

He whirled around and found the Japanese's bed. The one with curtains surrounding it. Shakily, he got himself on his feet. He was a little unsteady but he could still walk. His rubbery arm flopping at his side like a slimy fish, reminding him that the incident was real.

"Harry?" Ron questioned, puzzled at his friend's strange behavior. Hermione stood up and rushed over to Harry's side.

"Harry? What are you doing? You should be resting in bed!" her reprimand fell on Harry's deaf ears. He continued his shaky progress towards the curtains, feeling the chill slowly creeping into his being, freezing him right down to the bone.

Not surprising seeing that there were many openings in his arm to allow the cold air enter his body literally. Though as compared to the previous time he neared the body of the white-haired mystery, the cold wasn't as horrid.

Slowly, he reached out his only functioning hand and pulled back the pale green cloth.

There was a small breeze as he opened the curtains, like a draught, ruffling his hair when the cool air blew past him.

Lying on the bed just like he had before, was the Japanese transfer. His skin still as pale as ever, and his teal eyes dull. But there was something different about the person lying on the bed now. What was that difference Harry couldn't place his finger on it.

He stared at the motionless body of Hitsugaya. If he was still unconscious, then who was the one that saved him from that fall? Not to mention passing him the Snitch so that Gryffindor won the game? From what he'd last seen of his savior, he was sure that not many people have such an odd eye color.

He let the curtains fall back into place. The mystery of his savior clawing at the sides of his head. Making his way back to his bed, he swung himself onto the mattress, his holey arm flapping.

At that moment, the door to the Infirmary burst open and the whole Gryffindor team—with the mud, noise and all—appeared by Harry's side.

They congratulated him for his incredible game and made fun of the Slytherin Seeker, namely Malfoy. This had effectively took Harry's mind off the annoying thoughts occupying his mind, letting him indulge in the laughter of his friends.

They were just about to dig in to the various treats they brought along with them before Madam Pomfrey chased them out saying that Harry had thirty-three bones to regrow. Leaving Harry all alone again, staring at the green curtains

Hours later, Harry awoke quite suddenly in the darkness of the Infirmary. His arm was feeling as if a thousand splinters were forcing their way out of his arm. He had thought that was what had woken him until he realized that someone was sponging his forehead.

"ARGH!" he yelled. "Get off me!"

He tried to swat the thing on him away before he recognized the creature.

"_Dobby_!"

The house elf stared at him with his mournful tennis-ball-sized eyes, a single tear hanging off his long thin nose.

"Harry Potter came back to school," Dobby said miserably. "Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter but he still came back to school! Why didn't Harry Potter, sir, go back home when Harry Potter missed the train?"

"What are you doing here and how did you know I missed the train?" Harry demanded angrily. Seeing Dobby's guilty expression—does his eyes have a luminous quality too?—Harry had a sudden suspicion.

"It was _you_!" he accused. "_You_ were the one that stopped the barrier from letting us through!"

Dobby nodded vigorously, his ears flapping. "Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway. Dobby had to iron his hands afterwards." He wriggled his ten long and badly burnt fingers in Harry's face, who made a huge effort to not throw up at the sight of the fried green flesh.

"But never did Dobby dream that Harry Potter, sir, would come to school in another way! Dobby was so upset that he let his master's dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir!"

Harry smacked his forehead in exasperation, regretting instantly as he brought on himself a stinging forehead.

"You almost got me and Ron expelled." He said fiercely. "You'd better get out of my sight before I strangle you with one hand."

"Dobby is used to death threats, Harry Potter, sir." Dobby smiled weakly. "Dobby gets them five times every day back home." He blew his nose onto a filthy corner of the dirty pillow case he wore.

He looked so pathetic that Harry's anger ebbed away despite his attempts to keep it burning.

"Why are you wearing that?" he asked, mildly concerned.

"This?" Dobby looked at the cloth he was wearing. "This is a sign of Dobby's enslavement Harry Potter, sir. Dobby could only be freed when his masters present him with a piece of clothing, sir. Dobby's masters are very careful to not give Dobby even a sock as Dobby would be freed from their house forever."

Dobby wiped his eyes and said suddenly.

"Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought that the Bludger was enough to make Harry Potter go—"

"Was the Bludger your doing too?" Harry's anger bubbled up again. "You turned that Bludger into a monster to kill me did you not?"

"No, sir!" Dobby shook his head in shock. "Never to kill Harry Potter, sir! Seriously maim but never to kill! Dobby just wanted to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home seriously injured but not dead! And Dobby did not turn the Bludger into a monster! Dobby turned the monster into a Bludger!"

Harry spluttered. Dobby turned the monster into a Bludger?

"And how did you do that?"

"It was a strange monster, it turned into whatever it touches. So Dobby gave it the Bludger and sealed it when it turned into a Bludger!" Dobby seemed to be beaming for a while as he described his piece of work, then he realized the situation and became all scared again.

"It's too dangerous for Harry Potter in Hogwarts! Now that the Chamber of Secrets is opened again—" Dobby's already wide eyes went even wider, if it was even possible.

The house elf hurried off the bed, grabbed the lamp on Harry's beside table and started whacking himself on the head with it, muttering "Bad Dobby! Very bad Dobby!"

"What do you mean by the Chamber of Secrets was opened _again_? Did you mean that it was opened once before? DOBBY STOP HITTING YOURSELF AND ANSWER ME!" Harry tried in vain to wrestle the lamp from the house elf.

His voice was rather loud in the darkness, but apparently it wasn't loud enough to alert Madam Pomfrey that he was awake when he shouldn't be.

"Who was the one that opened it before? Dobby!" Harry tried desperately to squeeze some information from Dobby—quite literally—but the elf just shook his head as he continued to whack himself brain dead.

"Please ask no more of poor Dobby, Harry Potter, sir! Please ask no more!" Dobby cried. "Go home Harry Potter! Go home! For Hogwarts is no longer safe for Harry Potter, sir!"

Dobby suddenly froze in the mist of punishing himself, his huge ears twitching. Harry heard it too, footsteps nearing the Infirmary.

"Dobby cannot stay!" Dobby whispered to Harry. "Harry Potter must go home! Must!" then with a snap of his fingers, Dobby disappeared. Harry cursed as he slipped back into bed, pretending to be asleep.

Dumbledore—in a wooly night gown and night cap—backed into the Infirmary, holding one end of what seems to be a human-sized statue. Professor McGonagall rushed in, after him, heading straight for Madam Pomfrey's office at the other end of the Infirmary. Snape appeared next, holding the other end of the statue.

Together, he and Dumbledore heaved the statue onto a bed, the one three beds away from Harry's.

Madam Pomfrey hurried after Professor McGonagall and when she caught sight of the statue on the bed, she gave a sharp intake of breath, her hands flying to her mouth.

"Oh Merlin, Albus, what happened?" she whispered, bending over the statue.

"Another attack, this makes a second attack on the students." Dumbledore said grimly. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

"Second attack?" Madam Pomfrey cast a nervous glance at the bed that was surrounded by curtains.

"Hitsugaya's symptoms matched this one's perfectly. I suspect his heart rate has been declining hasn't it? Moreover, he was found in the Forbidden Forest, it would be safe to assume he had been attacked." It was Snape who answered.

"But didn't Albus tell the children he wasn't Petrified?"

"Now that we have another case to compare to, we have confirmed that Hitsugaya was attacked as well."

His words gave Harry a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him when I found him," Professor McGonagall said quietly. "We believe he sneaked up here to visit Potter."

Harry's already sinking stomach did a flip as it continued on its journey downwards. Slowly and carefully so that the professors would not notice him, he raised his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the statue on the bed.

The moonlight lit the face of the person clearly. It was Colin Creevey. His hands were raised in front of him, poised to take a picture. His eyes were wide and dull. His skin unhealthily pale.

Dumbledore reached forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin's frozen grip with some difficulty.

"Perhaps the boy had caught a picture of his attacker?" Snape said, looking at the camera with interest.

Dumbledore opened the back of the camera to take out the film.

"Good Gracious!" Madam Pomfrey gasped as the camera nearly exploded in Dumbledore's face. The smell of melted plastic and metal wafted towards Harry. He scrunched up his nose at the stink.

The jet of black smoke that accompanied the stink had stained Dumbledore's white beard, making him appear as though he just crawled up a chimney in an effort to imitate Santa Claus.

The four professors stared at each other, as if holding a conversation with expressions alone.

"What does this _mean_, Albus?" Professor McGonagall broke the silence with a whisper.

Dumbledore turned his gaze towards the bed Hitsugaya occupied.

"This means," Dumbledore took a breath, drawing out the dramatic silence. "The Chamber of Secrets had indeed been opened again."

Both Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey gasped, Snape somehow looked as though he had expected it and was wearing a small smirk.

"But Albus…how?" Professor McGonagall muttered. Dumbledore turned his attention to her.

"I don't know. All I know is that the only witness of the first opening of the Chamber—and possibly the perpetrator—is currently lying, Petrified, in that bed."

Harry swallowed. What did Dumbledore mean by that?

Dumbledore nodded at the bed on the far end of the Infirmary, where the body of the white-haired youth lay. The professors followed his gaze and all of them wore the same expression Harry wore right now, confused.

Harry laid his head back on the pillow, his head spinning. What was the meaning of this?

A sudden movement outside the Infirmary caught his eye. Turning sharply to the door, Harry's eyes widened in horror.

Standing at the door—appearing to be in perfect health—was Hitsugaya Toushiro. He held a glowing device in one hand, which Harry instantly recognized as a handphone. He hid behind the wall such that only his head was visible. His teal eyes seemed to glow dangerously in the dark as he glared at the professors, his expression was a mix between surprise and anger.

Then he held the phone to his ear and just disappeared. Without a sound, the white-haired youth left no evidence that he had ever been standing outside the door. Just like a ghost. And Harry wasn't referring to the ones that roamed the grounds of Hogwarts.

**Alright! Done with this chapter! Hope you guys enjoyed it! Here's a little extra to wrap up this chapter!**

Omake

Hinamori Momo—not the owl—looked up at the sky outside her window. It was clear and bright. A perfect day to go out for some walk along Kuchiki taicho's koi pond. She sighed in content as she dreamed about how the koi fish would swim towards her eagerly, hoping to be fed.

Then she sighed again, this time in disappointment as she saw the pile of paperwork she has to fill in. Without a taicho in her division, all the paperwork has fallen into her responsibility. She briefly wondered if this was how Toushiro felt when he had to finish all of his and Matsumoto-san's paperwork.

There was a little knock on her door and Kira Izuru entered her office.

"Oh, ohayo, Kira-kun. What brings you here?" Hinamori smiled. Ever since their taicho had betrayed them, the three devastated fuku-taicho had been visiting each other quite frequently, often to seek comfort in the fact that there are others feeling the same loss as they feel.

It was also to take a little break from the various looks they get from the other division members, as if they expected them to follow their taicho's footsteps.

"I wanted to take a break from all that paperwork I have on my desk right now, I thought that perhaps you wanted to do the same too." Kira said looking a little guilty for behaving like a certain fuku-taicho that is probably drunk now.

Hinamori smiled.

"I was thinking about that too! How about we go down for a spar? That will take our minds off the work!"

They spared for an hour, not wanting to drag it too long, fearing that they might not be able to finish today's share of paperwork.

"So…have you heard from Hitsugaya-taicho so far?" Kira asked on their way back. Hinamori frowned.

"No…ever since Matsumoto-san received that screaming letter from him, I haven't heard from him. " Hinamori's expression turned into one of worry. "Do you think something happened to him? It is an unknown territory after all!"

"I'm sure Hitsugaya-taicho is fine!" Kira frantically tried to pacify her while mentally berating himself. _There are thousands of topics I could choose, why must I choose this topic? I'm the worst! I'm the worst!_

"He is a taicho! He wouldn't get himself in danger so easily! Besides, Hitsugaya-taicho had been on a mission to Britain before hadn't he? When he was still a Division member? He would be familiar with the place there! Don't you worry, Hinamori-chan!"

Hinamori nodded when Kira's logic made sense to her.

"But I'm still worried. Ah! I know! I'll write to him! then we can get Matsumoto-san to help me send it to him!" A brilliant smile graced her innocent features. Immediately, she started running the rest of the way back to her office. "Come on, Kira-kun! I'm sure Shiro-chan would be happy to hear from you too!"

Kira smiled, he was sure that Hitsugaya-taicho wouldn't be expecting to hear from him. He wasn't exactly all chummy with the child prodigy, honestly. But if Hinamori wanted him to participate too, he would. It wasn't easy to resist the innocent smile Hinamori had ready for everyone. It's no wonder the Ice Prince of Soul Society would have a soft spot for the girl.

"Hai!"

**And that officially concludes this chapter! Hope you enjoyed reading this! See ya in da next chappie!**

**Please review! (Please don't kill me!)**

**Arigato!**


	18. The Dirty Marble

**A/N: YES! I'm back! Finally went past my block and came up with this chapter, which I made **_**slightly **_**longer to make up for my inactiveness…so tired…**

**Thank you to all those who reviewed! I really enjoyed reading those reviews and knowing that people liked my story~! Special thanks to keiriala for your cookies!**

**And so without anymore dilly dally-ing, let's move on to Shiro-chan's amazing adventure in Britain~!**

**Disclaimer: I DONOT own Bleach or Harry Potter.**

_Standing at the door—appearing to be in perfect health—was Hitsugaya Toushiro. He held a glowing device in one hand, which Harry instantly recognized as a handphone. He hid behind the wall such that only his head was visible. His teal eyes seemed to glow dangerously in the dark as he glared at the professors; his expression was a mix between surprise and anger._

_Then he held the phone to his ear and just disappeared. Without a sound, the white-haired youth left no evidence that he had ever been standing outside the door. Just like a ghost. And Harry wasn't referring to the ones that roamed the grounds of Hogwarts._

Ron and Hermione sat by Harry's bed, having brought their breakfast along with them. Harry has not woken up yet, but both friends did not wake him up, he needed his rest.

Hermione had another book entitled _Spells for Travellers!_ on her lap, her eyes flying across the words on the page, her hand hovering over her plate of bread, more or less neglecting it in favor of the knowledge her book provided.

Ron was the direct opposite; his face was stuffed with his breakfast, as he inspected Colin's body from a safe distance. It was a wonder how his loud chewing had not managed to wake the sleeping Harry.

A flutter of wings suddenly brought the two conscious students' attention to the door where a small black owl flew in swiftly. The little owl landed lightly on top of the screens surrounding the bed where Hitsugaya currently lay. A scroll of paper was tied to its leg with a pink ribbon. The owl hooted, as if calling for the boy, its head tilted to the side, as if confused as to why its master wasn't answering it.

"Hey, isn't that Momo?" Hermione murmured, her eyes fixed on the little owl.

Ron scoffed. "A tiny owl for the midget, figures." Hermione gave him a smack on the arm in response. The owl seems to sense that Ron had meant ill to its master, its small head turned a full hundred and eighty degrees to face the red-head, its large brown eyes giving him the best owl version of Hitsugaya's glare.

Then, it turned its eyes to the more friendly-looking Hermione; it seems to be facing some internal conflict as it looked back and forth between its unmoving master and Hermione. Then finally, making up its mind, it flapped its wings and flew towards Hermione, landing beside her plate of bread. Lifting up the leg that has the scroll of paper, Momo hooted and looked at Hermione with its big, round eyes so full of hope.

Hermione didn't even hesitate in taking the scroll off the owl's leg; it was too much to disappoint the little owl.

When it was relieved of its burden, the little thing gave a happy hoot, plucked a piece of bread off Hermione's plate, and flew over to the bed its master currently occupied. Diving behind the curtains, the little bird disappeared from view, but not for long before it flew up again—this time the bread was nowhere to be seen—and out the Infirmary.

Curious, Hermione slowly walked towards Hitsugaya's bed. Unlike the last time she had neared the area, this time the air didn't turn freezing cold as if they just entered a freezer, it was strangely warm this time. Hermione closed her eyes tightly and swallowed, preparing herself mentally for the image that she would most definitely see, she slowly pulled apart the curtains, her hands trembling a little. Ron didn't say a word as he stood beside Hermione, his face slightly green.

Hitsugaya's body was just like how they had last seen him, lifeless and unmoving but there was a difference. A difference that Hermione just can't point out. She _knew_ that he looked different, but she just can't tell how.

The piece of bread Momo had taken from her plate lay on top of Hitsugaya's frozen hand. Hermione sighed at the little owl's concern for its master before placing that bread on the bedside table, careful to not touch Hitsugaya's ashen skin.

Pulling a chair to her, Hermione sat down at where she thought was the closest she would ever be willing to get to the white-haired youth's head. Ron was rather unwilling but he sat grumpily beside Hermione, the hue of green on his face still has not disappeared yet.

"Hitsugaya," Hermione felt a little weird talking to the unmoving body, but this was probably what Hitsugaya's owl wanted her to do. "Momo came with a letter for you, so I'm just going to read it out for you okay?"

Hermione undid the pink ribbon, and unrolled the scroll. The white paper was filled with black brush strokes; it seems almost impossible to decipher a word or letter from another. To the two children, the writing seems more like a bunch of badly drawn tadpoles.

Hermione's expression suddenly brightened up, with vigor, she flipped open the book on her lap and her eyes scanned across the index. When she found what she wanted, she flipped to the exact page in one swipe. She mouthed something to herself and then turned to the letter again. She took a deep breath and tapped her wand to the paper, muttering the spell that would translate Japanese—since Hitsugaya is Japanese, any letter from his home should be in Japanese, according to logic—into English.

The two of them watched as the black strokes on the paper wriggled and started to swim across the paper, rearranging themselves into alphabets that they could understand. Within a minute, the whole letter was understandable.

"Toushiro-kun!" Hermione began softly, trying to imitate the emotion of the words. "You haven't written to us for so long! Do you know how worried we are? Matsumoto-san has been drinking almost all day long now after you stopped sending those screaming letters! But even though she's doing that, you know that she misses you a lot! Sometimes when she's drunk, you can hear her screaming why weren't you in your office sometimes!"

"The midget has an office? What is he? A freaking business man?" Ron muttered. Hermione pointedly ignored him.

"Captain Ukitake has been trying to send you more sweets but it seems like Momo—why did you name her after me, Shiro-chan?—refused to bring them over! Oh! And I have Kira-kun here with me too! He says hello to you! Please write back okay? I'm very worried about you, especially since it's a foreign land you are in right now! Momo."

Hermione lowered the scroll, her eyes going back to Hitsugaya's face. It must have been her imagination that the color of his face was less grey and a color closer to its usual pale.

Gently, she placed the scroll onto the bedside table, using the bread as a paperweight. She stood up silently, and left without another word, Ron following close behind, the green completely gone from his face and was now replaced with a slight tinge of red.

When they stepped back into the Infirmary, Harry's bed was already empty. It seems like he had woken up when they were reading Hitsugaya's letter. It's strange that they didn't hear him getting up, or him hearing Hermione when she was reading.

The letter had her attention captured, she could almost see the writer as Hitsugaya's sister, her wide eyes filled with concern and hope that he would write back. The curtains had been like a barrier, separating them from the rest of the Infirmary, immersed in the little universe the letter had created.

Before, it was hard for Hermione to imagine that Hitsugaya even had a family, Hermione realized. He seems so cold and distant; she had always thought that he was some kind of solitary figure, a lone existence that seemed perfectly natural by himself.

But now, Hermione knew that he had a family that seemed rather strange from the sound of it but loving nonetheless, she couldn't help but feel her heart clench as she imagined a laughing, carefree bunch of people looking slightly confused as to why wasn't their white-haired member replying. _And he might never will,_ her mind supplied grimly.

"'Mione!" came Ron's voice as he waved a hand in front of her face. She startled and realized that her eyes were moist, quickly, she rubbed away the offending liquid. "What's wrong with you, 'Mione? I said we should look for Harry."

"Oh," Hermione was glad that her voice didn't betray her. "Yeah, we should."

Harry's POV

Harry was now really confused, according to Percy, Ron and Hermione had visited him early in the morning and had not left ever since. However, according to himself, not even their shadows were present in the Infirmary.

They aren't in the common room or the great hall, where the hell are they? Harry frowned. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought hard. Did they tell him where they would be? He couldn't recall they telling him anything about what they would be doing after his arm was healed.

BAM.

"Ow…"

"Harry! There you are! We were looking for you all over the place!" Ron said as he helped the fallen boy. Harry rubbed his sore bottom, which had given the ground a painful kiss when he collided with Ron.

"Where were you guys? I was looking for both of you too, you know." Harry was feeling a little irritated that his friends had abandoned him.

"We were in the Infirmary the whole time, mate! Though you probably didn't see us coz' the midget's owl had mail for him and Hermione decided to read it out to him by his bed. When we came out again, you were already gone, mate!" Ron had an incredulous expression as if he can't believe Hermione did what she did.

"The letter was written by a girl, it sounds like his sister or something. Blimey, hard to imagine any girl that would want to get close to him, that ice popsicle." Harry decided to bite his tongue from saying that despite his attitude, Hitsugaya's looks are definitely far _far_ above average. "Whatever, Hermione has already started on creating the potion. We heard about Colin from Professor McGonagall, saw him too, poor kid."

Harry only nodded mutely in agreement. Then he remembered his late-night visit from the strange elf named Dobby. In an excited manner, he found himself spilling all he had seen last night to his best friend.

"Bloody hell, you mean that midget was alive and jumping around with a faun in his hands?" Ron shook his head in disbelieve, imagining the small Hitsugaya carrying a man goat hybrid around and jumping.

"No! Not a faun, a _phone_." Harry emphasized on the muggle word. "It's a communication device used very commonly by muggles."

Ron made a little 'o' shape with his mouth and then nodded in understanding.

"Ah, that, I think I heard Dad talking about it some time…but how is that possible? The midget is still lying in the hospital wing!" Ron begin to mumble all kinds of theory of how Hitsugaya could have been running around but still lie in the hospital wing, 'Petrified'. Harry joined in his mumbling and provided some of his rather illogical theories ("He can travel inter-dimensionally but need to become a stone to do that!").

Without realizing it, they had already entered the bathroom stall in which Hermione had a cauldron bubbling—to Harry's slight disgust—in the toilet bowl.

"Oh Harry! There you are! Where have you been?" Hermione exclaimed absentmindedly, as if she didn't really care if Harry was here or not. She shifted to the side to make some room for the boys in the small cubicle. "I'm almost done with the potion, here help me crush the lacewing flies into fine grains."

As they worked, Harry retold the story of Hitsugaya to Hermione, who listened intently. Her brows furrowed.

"That seems like he had a clone…" Hermione mumbled. "But we can't be sure if the Hitsugaya in the hospital wing is a clone or he really is awake but pretending to be Petrified. We have no way of knowing, since the curtains around him are drawn. But one thing we know for sure is that he is awake, either running around the castle right now or lying in the hospital wing."

Hermione took a moment to pour the crushed lacewing flies into the bubbling cauldron.

"And you said Dumbledore mentioned Hitsugaya being somehow the eye-witness to the first opening of the chamber? Now that's strange, Hitsugaya had only been in this school—and possibly the magical world—for just these few months, how can he be the _only_ eye-witness? Possibly the perpetrator? That just doesn't make sense!"

Hermione did a frustrated pout, placing the empty chopping board on the ground with a huff.

Then, Ron's face lit up comically as if there really was a light bulb in his head that was suddenly connected to electricity. His excited eyes turned to his two best friends; his wide, victorious smile was on the edge of being permanent. The frustrating thing was, he seemed to forget that he has a vocal chord.

"Ron, we cannot read your mind." Harry rolled his eyes.

"I just had a brilliant idea!" Ron's voice was simply too high to be that of a boy's. "Well, clone or not, the midget is not in a coma! Why don't we just ask him!"

"But…" Hermione seemed unsure. "He might just continue pretending to be Petrified and if he is running around…Hogwarts is _huge_. How are we going to find him?"

"We will find a way." Harry said determinedly. He wanted answers too, and he isn't letting his source of it go so easily. "Besides, we don't really have anything to do until this potion is done."

The three of them nodded to each other, confirming that they all agree to the suggestion. Leaving the potion to brew, the three got left their little 'lair'. As he stepped out of the cubicle, Harry suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck raising. An inching feeling at the back of his head made him sweat without understanding why.

It felt as if he was being watched, very closely. The imaginary pair of eyes stared at the back of his head with enough intensity to rival that of a laser.

The feeling didn't go away all the way until he reached the exit of the unused toilet. Unable to bear it anymore, Harry whirled around his eyes searching—a little panicky—in the direction he felt the stare.

There was nothing there except for the carving of a dragon on one of the many pillars that supports the ceiling. The dragon's empty socket stared back at him in an eerily blank stare.

"Harry?" Ron called from the exit. He looked from Harry to the dragon carving then back to Harry again, not understanding what about the dirty marble that caught his friend's attention.

"Oh…coming." Harry said hesitantly, he took one last look at the eerie dragon carving before closing the door behind him, and shutting the eerie stare together with their potion in Moaning Mrytle's bathroom.

Toushiro's POV

Toushiro stood outside the cubicle the three children have decided as their 'secret hideout'. His cold teal orbs narrowed. Apparently Harry had not been sleeping like he should yesterday night when the Creevey kid was brought into the hospital wing. It seems like the trio has a really bad habit of staying up past their bedtime, Toushiro thought grumpily.

The white-haired youth leaned against the side of the cubicle and folded his arms, unabashedly continuing his eavesdropping.

"I just had a brilliant idea! Well, clone or not, the midget is not in a coma! Why don't we just ask him!" Ah, that is indeed quite logical thinking coming from the re-headed idiot. The only problem is the ninety percent chance of the boy dying in the process since Toushiro would _love_ to remind him that 'midget' is listed under 'TABOO' in his vocabulary.

Toushiro played with the helm of his white haori, having noticed a small rip in it. Hm, he should sew it together later.

It would make it just a little harder for him to hide from the trio after Harry had displayed the ability to see him. That did surprise Toushiro since the boy didn't felt like he had enough reiatsu to be able to see Hollows and Shinigami. He did, and that's all that the shinigami taicho needed to know.

Sensing that the trio was about to leave the cubicle, Toushiro leapt up close to the ceiling and waited for them to exit the toilet. Just as they were about to close the door behind them, Harry suddenly turned around, his eyes searching the area where Toushiro was hiding. He ducked behind the pillar beside him just in time to avoid being seen.

"Harry?"

"Oh…coming." Then the door closed with a click.

_That was close_, Toushiro thought. He dropped down to the ground soundlessly from his hiding place, in the process catching sight of the carving on the pillar he just hid behind. A dragon. He snorted.

Without any second glance at the carving, Toushiro proceeded to stand in front of the sink in the middle of the toilet. He narrowed his eyes. There was a dark reiatsu leaking out of the creaks and cracks of the circular sink.

"Isn't it interesting?" the ghost girl—Moaning Mrytle, if he remembered correctly—giggled from beside him, having finished wallowing in self-pity in the toilet bowl. She nudged Toushiro with her shoulder, her manner in everyway flirtatious. "Harry Potter said that you were there when the Chamber first opened…perhaps you remember something?"

Toushiro approached the sink slowly, reaching out with his own reiatsu like tentacles to search for the openings from which the Hollow-like reiatsu was seeping out.

The whole scene felt familiar to him, but he had no memories of ever coming here before, much less being the one to open the Chamber, wherever it is.

"I died in the First Opening, in this very toilet, facing the very person standing here before me," the ghost girl whispered into his ear. There was a pause in the shinigami taicho's search before it continued but at a slower pace. There was a calculating look in those icy teal orbs as Toushiro thought through the girl's words.

"Tell me what happened in the First Opening." Toushiro's calm voice broke the silence in the toilet; his eyes turned to Mrytle's transparent grey ones. She giggled and trailed her ghostly fingers along Toushiro's pale arm, greedily enjoying the fact that she was finally able to _feel _something.

"I haven't felt the warmth of another person for so long…if you let me feel more of that warmth, I'll tell you everything I know, everything I saw for both Openings…Mr. Reaper." She floated to directly face Toushiro and then wrapped her arms around Toushiro's small shoulders.

The white-haired Shinigami looked at her with impassive eyes, their iciness only highlighted by the steady decline in temperature. Mrytle's smile faltered. Not really in control of her body, she felt herself floating away slowly from the white-haired youth.

Fear slowly crept into her being; unpleasantly reminding her that she wasn't facing a teenager too mature for his age…she was flirting with Death himself.

He smirked.

**Yay~! Done! Enjoyed it? I hope so….**

**See ya guys in da next chappie~!**

**Shiro-chan:…*completely speechless***

**Me: …**

**Shiro-chan: …What?**

**Me: It's necessary for the plot to go on. *****Nods in a know-it-all way*******

**Shiro-chan: *****cold cold glare*******

**Me: …Why do I feel even more scared than when you unleash Bankai on me?**

**Please review! (And no, I don't plan on making this ToushiroXMrytle)**

**Arigato!**


	19. The Interrogation

**A/N: Hello everybody! I'm back with a new chapter! (Finally)**

**Thank you to all those who reviewed/ favorite/ alerted this story (and by extension me :D)! I really really appreciate them!**** Special thanks to randomperson9802 for your cookie and Tropic-Lover for your chocolate super fudge sundae! (sounds **_**soo**_** delicious!)**

**Shiro-chan:….thanks for the watermelon. *****grumble blush grumble***** (He secretly loves it)**

**Answers to reviews:**

**UnImaginative: Thank you for your advice! I'll keep that in mind! Grammar had never been my strong point but I'll look out for the mistakes more vigorously!**

**On to Shiro-chan's magical adventure in Great Britain!**

**Disclaimer: I DONOT own Bleach or Harry Potter.**

_The white-haired Shinigami looked at her with impassive eyes, their iciness only highlighted by the steady decline in temperature. Mrytle's smile faltered. Not really in control of her body, she felt herself floating away slowly from the white-haired youth. _

_Fear slowly crept into her being; unpleasantly reminding her that she wasn't facing a teenager too mature for his age…she was flirting with Death himself._

_He smirked. _

Harry's POV

"The Dueling Club sounds cool! I really can't wait for the lesson to start after dinner!" Ron said excitedly as the three of them entered the Great Hall together for dinner. "You reckon the Slytherin's monster will know how to duel? Like bow to you before they attack you or something?"

"Could be useful, you never know." Harry shrugged. He settled into his seat and helped himself to a huge serving of roasted chicken with potatoes. Oh, those look exceptionally delicious today! He bit into the succulent flesh and his stomach growled its approval at being fed.

By the time the last of the students had came into the Great Hall, everyone had already engaged in their own joyous conversations with their bands of friends, occasional laughter was heard over the pleasant hum of voices as everyone ate their dinner.

"'Ey, sheen Sheamush?" Ron asked around his mouthful of…. Harry didn't really feel inclined to know. He guessed that Ron was probably asking for Seamus. He looked up and down the Gryffindor table and was surprised to see the usually noisy boy not at the table.

"Maybe he's in the loo?" Harry guessed, making sure to swallow before he spoke. Unlike some people, he knew that it was absolutely disgusting to stare at chewed food being chewed in somebody else's mouth.

Speaking of the devil, the topic of this discussion chose this exact time to push through the last students entering the Great Hall, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"EVERYONE!" Seamus screamed as he ran to the Gryffindor table. "LISTEN TO THIS!" At this, all the murmurings around the hall lowered, the students couldn't resist the temptation of a juicy new gossip even if a boring Gryffindor was telling it.

"Hitsugaya Toushiro is back!" If there had been murmurings before, there was certainly no sound now. All the students froze and stared at the boy that was now shrinking a little into himself. Seamus's gaze shifted from face to face as he was suddenly confronted with the force of the stares from the whole school population.

If this was under any other circumstance, he would have been relishing in his sudden second of fame, but this moment was far too tense for him to even start elaborating on the matter. He was dying to; it's just that somehow, his tongue felt frozen.

The heavy double doors to the Great Hall flew open; a gust of cold wind blew into the Hall and the students almost expected to see a few snowflakes float in as well. It felt as if a freaking blizzard had been blowing in the hallways.

Hitsugaya Toushiro stood in the middle of the doorway, his cold teal eyes looked much brighter than Harry had remembered. His face was impassive, though his white brows were pulled together slightly. His skin was just as pale as ever, and his snow white shock of hair looked as fluffy as Harry remembered.

The Japanese also looked as tiny as he had remembered. He was completely dwarfed by the huge double doors and a part of Harry's mind wondered just how did the boy manage to push open the huge doors alone with that small frame of his?

The white-haired student took in the collective stares of the whole school population. There were no exception; even the teachers were fixing him with their stare. Harry only just realized that Dumbledore was actually standing at his table.

Hitsugaya didn't even flinch at the stares. Shrugging them off as if they were nothing, He walked over to the Gryffindor table—the stares following him, it was actually quite creepy if you thought about it—and picked up a plate and a pair of chopsticks, which to be honest, just appeared out of nowhere. By magic of course.

He displayed obvious skill and experience in the usage of the aforementioned utensils as he placed a few pieces of chicken, a bit of rice and spinach on his plate. Then as an afterthought, he took two slices of watermelon from the fruit dish.

When he as done collecting his food, he realized that the rest of the life forms in the Great Hall were still following his movements with their eyes. There was a wide range of emotions, but mostly bordering on shock and hysterical.

He rolled his teal eyes and took a bite of his watermelon before he carried his plate of food out of the Great Hall and back into the hallways. Probably as an act of courtesy, he brought the double doors closed with his feet as he went through.

The doors closed with a resounding bang, shutting out the cold wind from the hallways and heat returned to the Hall. It was almost as if Hitsugaya had brought the cold with him as he exited the silent Hall. There was another heartbeat of tense silence.

Then noise _erupted._

Loud talking and some outright screaming filled the Hall and Harry had to cover his poor ears as sudden noise attacked them.

At the same time, Dumbledore rushed down from the teachers' table, his footsteps much too quick for someone of his age. Following him closely were McGonagall and Snape. Seeing the three teachers going after the young transfer, Lockhart scrambled to wipe his mouth, flash a blinding—idiotic in Harry's opinion—smile at the female witch he sat besides, and ran after the exiting teachers in a clumsy stumble.

Some students made to follow them but the rest of the teachers stayed behind to make sure the students didn't manage to follow.

That didn't stop our favorite trio, of course. Making use of the chaos in the commotion, the three of them slipped under the table and Harry threw the invisibility cloak over them.

They carefully crept out from under the table and followed the teachers out into the hallways.

They were struck with how cold it was. Really, this temperature was surely not normal for early December.

Dumbledore and his team of teachers were speed walking in the direction of which they assumed Hitsugaya had disappeared in. They couldn't be sure what with the white-haired transfer being so small and the teachers being so big compared to him. Harry and his friends hurried after the teachers, slightly tripping over their over feet as they tried to move as fast as they could while squeezing in the limited space under the cloak.

Harry wondered why the teachers didn't just call Hitsugaya to stop instead of following him around in a not-exactly-subtle way. Hermione and Ron also came to the same conclusion as him and frowned. Hermione being the closest to the edge of the cloak stretched her neck in an attempt to see around the teachers.

"He's… he's not in front of the teachers!" she whispered.

"What? Then how are the teachers following the midget?" Ron whispered back.

Harry shrugged in answer, forgetting for a moment that they were all squeezing and jerking around so much that the shrug might have been passed off as a random jerk.

They almost crashed into Lockhart as the teachers came to an abrupt stop. They crept as quickly and silently as they could to the side to see what had caused the sudden stop.

It seems like they had finally caught up with Hitsugaya. The white-haired boy sat on the steps of one of the staircases, his plate of food was untouched while he munched on the watermelon. There was a slight amusement in his teal orbs as he stared at the teachers in front of him.

Dumbledore's POV

The Japanese boy eyed Dumbledore while he took another bite of his fruit and slowly chewed it. There was a moment of silence as the aged Headmaster observed the boy in front of him.

Hitsugaya Toushiro looked perfectly healthy, not a condition he would have expected from someone who just woke up after being supposedly Petrified for about a month. It must have been more than a miracle that someone woke up on their own after being Petrified.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore?" The boy swallowed with effort and asked in his slight Japanese accent.

Dumbledore's mind conjured up a face he had recovered recently from the Pensieve. The face of the boy he had vaguely recalled seeing such a long time ago during the First Opening. Now that he was face to face with the living, moving version in real life, Dumbledore couldn't help but be shocked at the sheer resemblance of the two faces.

"Mr. Hitsugaya, have you been aware of what happened to you for the past month?" Dumbledore began, a gentle smile on his face. It was always good to let the student know that he was not going to get into trouble by answering his question.

The boy winced as if the reminder of the past month he had spent unconscious was a painful one. Dumbledore almost regretted even making the poor boy remember.

"Well Professor…" Hitsugaya's oddly colored eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth turned down slightly. "I think I was unconscious for that period of time."

Dumbledore let out a small chuckle, "Yes, my boy, what I meant was, do you know what had happened to you for you to be unconscious like that?"

"I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid I don't know anything about that." Hitsugaya looked up, and Dumbledore could clearly see the apology and even a tiny bit of fright in those odd eyes. He searched deeper into the boy's eyes, but he could only see fright and truth in those innocent eyes.

Suddenly, Dumbledore was very aware of how this must have looked to the poor boy.

He had just recovered— though under questionable circumstances—from a serious coma and had just been faced with the hostile stares of the whole school. Which was probably why he had ran all the way here, a rather deserted area, to eat his first dinner in weeks alone. He must have been trying to shield himself from those stares. Being the adults that only saw the situation from their own point of view, they had interrupted even that little bubble of privacy the boy had been trying to gain.

That face from his old memories flashed in his mind again, this time, the scared faces overlapped. The present and the past face. There was no difference at all. The same youthful face, the same oddly colored eyes, the same hair color. But that had happened close to sixty years ago, there was no way a face would stay the same through all this time.

"It appears that this poor child is suffering from the effects of short-term amnesia!" Lockhart exclaimed excitedly. "This is nothing a strong Memory Potion won't solve! Don't worry little boy! I, Gilderoy Lockhart, will whip one up before you could even blink!"

"Excuse me," Snape sneered at Lockhart as if he was a dead beetle floating in his freshly brewed chamomile tea. "I have to kindly remind you again that _I _am the Potions Master. I also have to add that Memory Potion being used on a child with a magical core that is not fully developed such as Mr. Hitsugaya's would cause irreversible magical brain damage."

Lockhart's smile froze awkwardly on his face as he twitched uncomfortably under Snape's disgusted glare. Dumbledore watched his trusted colleague intimidate Lockhart with his glare in amusement. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hitsugaya shook a little. The boy probably had been imagining the brain damage he would have suffered if not for Snape's timely rescue.

"Child, finish your dinner quickly," he smiled down gently at the boy. "And let us talk more in my office later."

Hitsugaya gave a small nod and took a small nibble of his watermelon. His big, innocent eyes followed the teachers as they turned around and walked back to the Great Hall. Dumbledore clicked his tongue softly as he noticed Severus giving the poor boy a spectacular Snape sneer, causing the boy to flinch.

Ah, Severus really needed to work on his concerned smile. It would put the students to ease better than his sneers, most definitely. Dumbledore chuckled at the thought of Severus smiling at children and shook his head at the mental image. An old man could wish, couldn't he?

Harry's POV

The three of them moved as close to the wall as they could when Dumbledore started questioning the boy on the stairs.

Hitsugaya's amusement remained throughout the interrogation, snorting at Lockhart's ridiculous boasting and sneering back at Snape when they turned to leave. However, Harry had a feeling that Hitsugaya had cleverly disguised his skeptical responses, if Dumbledore's strange responses were any indication. In fact, Harry had a feeling that Dumbledore was mistaking them for something completely different…

When the teachers had gone around the corner, Hitsugaya turned his gaze towards their direction. His icy glare pierced straight into their eyes, one by one.

"I know for sure that the teachers stopped students from coming." Hitsugaya's voice was as cold as ever.

Harry threw the cloak off of himself and managed to march up to the white-haired youth without any falter in his step.

"You are the one who owes us _all _an explanation!" Harry accused, indignant, his voice growing firmer and more confident with each word. "You just went unconscious for a month!" Hitsugaya rolled his teal eyes at that.

"I can't actually help if I went into a coma." Harry huffed, the other boy's tone making him feel slightly angry.

"Oh yeah? Were you even really in a coma? I _saw_ you in the hospital wing that night when Colin was Petrified!" The black-haired boy blurted before he could stop himself.

"_Harry_!" Hermione's shocked whisper came from behind him.

"You made it seem like you were in a coma, then you opened the Chamber of Secrets and Petrified Colin! It was also you who Petrified Mrs. Norris, wasn't it, Heir of Slytherin!" Harry spat each word harshly at Hitsugaya, the tone so venomous that he scared himself.

Hitsugaya stood up so fast that Harry's eyes completely missed the movement. His teal eyes were burning with silent anger, and the glare was so intimidating that Harry moved back a few steps and had to look away to stop the shaking that had started to form in his legs.

"Don't make assumptions so lightly." Hitsugaya snarled at him, each word sharp and cutting. Harry fumed at his words. He wasn't the one at wrong! It was Hitsugaya that was the one who had so much evidence piled against him that he is plainly lying through his—pearly white—teeth.

Despite the fact that his retort was on the tip of his tongue, ready to erupt out of him to slap the white-haired boy in the face, he just can't form the words. There was this feeling of fear slowly growing in his mind. His courage slowly slipped away as the pressure of fear increased. The words died, creeping back into his throat as he shivered.

The white-haired boy suddenly looked so much taller than he was.

Satisfied with Harry's apparent inability to speak, the white-haired youth picked up his forgotten plate of food and sat back on to the stairs. He continued eating even as the stairs rumbled and turned away, fixing itself to another platform.

Only when the boy was fully out of sight, did Harry's legs finally give out. He knelt on the floor and relished in the feeling of strength slowly seeping back into his legs.

"Harry, mate," Ron's voice shook. The two of his friends helped him stand back onto his feet, Harry felt a little embarrassed that he had to lean a little into Ron to steady himself. Even though Hitsugaya's glare was not directed at them, Ron and Hermione still felt the effect of it. "Let's go. We are gonna be late for the Dueling Club if e stayed any longer…"

Harry nodded stiffly and allowed himself to be guided into the direction of the Great Hall by his two friends. They took much longer than they expected to get back to the Great Hall, having been stumbling much of the way, Harry still struggling a little with his steps.

They trudged into the Great Hall just a few minutes before the lesson started. Harry groaned when his eyes scanned the participants. Life hated him too much.

Malfoy was with his cronies in a corner, but he was looking grumpily at the floor, his eyes refusing to look up. Harry quite understood Malfoy's behavior. In fact, close to half the room were in the same state as the blond.

The reason was—of course—the white-haired transfer that stood near the wall, glaring at anyone who dared to look his way.

Just great.

**Did I surprise any of you? And maybe disappoint with the lack of major action? I hope you guys enjoyed this!**

**See ya guys in da next chapter then!**

**Shiro-chan: Finally I'm back in action!**

**Me: Yes, FINALLY! And that would definitely mean that things are gonna move at a faster pace now!**

**Shiro-chan: I hope none of what you planned would be boring enough to make me wish for paper work…**

**Please review! (:3?)**

**Arigato!**


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